Prelude to a Nightmare
by Matthew747
Summary: Set before the events of Sins of the Fathers...Gabriel Knight is looking for an assistant for the store and a story to bring in the money. But at the same time, he's experiencing the strangest dreams. Just a simple nightmare, or is there something more?
1. Beginnings

_Author's Notes: All characters and references are copyright Sierra On- Line. Only the interpretation of events is my doing, and is all based on material from Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers._

_Additional Notes: I originally wrote this for another website which hosted an official contest from Sierra On-Line. It won first place in three categories out of five categories (Most Realistic Story [meaning could be a part of official story], Best Character Development, and "Ms. Jensen Would Be Proud of You" Best Overall Story), earning me a King's Quest VIII t- shirt and a signed copy (with actual personal message) from Jane Jensen. Also, this edition has been edited to allow it to have a PG rating. Only language was edited out. So, I hope yall enjoy it._

Beginnings

**April 19, 1993.**

_5:00a.m._

The sound of a roaring motorcycle was the only sign of life on the deserted streets of New Orleans. The bike's owner was the only one awake to hear it. If the owner didn't get to his destination soon, he may be the only one around to notice his own wreck. He was doing his best to stay awake; in fact, he didn't even know why he was out this late. He would've been glad to stay at his prior location, in the warm confines of the bed he fell asleep in after a night of love with...what was her name? Lola? Lilly? **Lolita!** The eventual recollection of her name also brought about the reason for his early-morning departure. He had promised himself not to be around when she had risen from her slumber. He did have the decency to leave her a note, saying that he had to be at work early. What he'd failed to mention was the time he'd intended to leave, or that he really didn't care to be around to explain to her that this was all just a one-night-only performance, and that they should go about their separate ways. Had she been somewhere in the first 20, he would've have been with her for at least a week; between #'s 21 and 30, he would've told her three days later in person that everything was wrong; if she had been # 39, he would have called her the next day from his home to tell her. However, when you get past # 40, then they're lucky if he even remembers their names. She should be honored.

The bike made a left on Royal. The owner didn't even pause to check for oncoming traffic, he knew even the cops were inside at this time of night. Besides, at the rate his "work", if you could call it that, was going, a collision wouldn't hurt him, hell, he may be able to collect insurance. But no such luck befell him this night.

His home came into view on the corner of Dumaine and Dauphine. He parked his bike on the side of the road, right in front of the door. He unlocked the door, but didn't bother removing the "Sorry- We're Closed" sign on the front. He barely had the consciousness to walk all the way to his bedroom, much less think of business at this hour. He removed his jacket and shirt and was asleep upon impact. St.George's Rare Books disappeared from his mind, as did the rest of the world. All that mattered to Gabriel Knight now was finding some way not to wake up.

Gabriel awoke an hour past opening time, but it wasn't to the pounding of customers wanting to be let in. Hell, he'd long forgotten about that ever happening. What he did wake up to was the sound of the phone ringing. He almost decided to ignore it, hoping that Lolita would eventually give-up. However, his memories of the previous evening returned just in time to tell him that he never mentioned his occupation nor his number. Besides, the ringing came from behind the curtain separating his private quarters from the store. Must be business, and in his line of work, any business was good business. Gabriel rushed out to the store, not bothering with a shirt, and answered on the seventh ring.

"St. George's Rare Books, this is Gabriel Knight. How may I help you?" He amazed himself as to how he quickly he went from barely awake to business mode in less than five seconds.

"Yes, I'm replying to an ad you placed in the Times Picayune about an assistant wanted. I was wondering if there was anytime I could come down there and be interviewed?"

Gabriel listened to the feminine voice on the other end with a sense of success. Finally, his prayers had been answered...well, some of them. He'd been desperately seeking an assistant to help watch the store ever since he first opened his shop. But with the poor sales and increase in bills, he'd never been able to do nothing more than place a small ad in the local paper, which stated that the monetary conditions would be determined by the owner. Most people avoided such ads, fearing what he'd planned on paying them. But now someone was replying with interest, and a woman!

Gabriel didn't want to lose the opportunity for help, so he quickly replied, "How about noon, miss? Business usually relaxes around that time." Gabriel hoped that she wouldn't mention the terms of payment over the phone. He really hoped she wouldn't mention them in person, either.

Thankfully, she replied, "That would be excellent, Mr. Knight. I'll be there promptly a noon. Thank you for the opportunity."

"You're welcome, miss..?" The woman had hung up before he had a chance to ask for her name. He was about to think of that as rude, but then, he wasn't about to mess up a chance for a female assistant, even if she was rude. Besides, if he was to interview her, he needed to be at least showered, along with his morning jolt of caffeine, which could only be provided from his coffee maker, currently filled with less-than-standard remnants of the previous morning. He quickly prepared a new mixture, which would be ready and waiting for him when he finished showering.

He also reminded himself to pick up the paper outside the door before proceeding with his plans of cleaning up. He had to check his horoscope to be sure if today was to be the day that he won the lottery.

_Embrace new changes which may befall you. Though you may think it unwise to join with one who opposes your views, they will become your greatest ally._

Gabriel read his horoscope again, but to no avail. He could not make heads or tails of the prediction. However, he did know that whatever it said, it didn't involve him winning the lottery. Gabriel had been so busy cleaning himself up that he barely even glance at the front headlines, which contained nothing of interest, anyway. Who cares if some rich woman died today? This Gedde woman could have given birth to Elvis's alien twin and he wouldn't have glanced at it twice. The only woman he was concerned about at this point in time was alive and planning on walking through his front door any minute now.

The clock read 11:58. Gabriel had propped his feet up on the desk, expecting the woman to be late. Therefore, he nearly fell out of his chair when the bell above the door rang at 11:59 and a young Oriental woman walked through.

Quickly gathering himself together, Gabriel readjusted himself in his seat and said, "Welcome to St. George's Rare Books. How may I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for the owner. I called earlier and he told me to meet him here for an interview."

Gabriel was stunned. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She wasn't outrageously gorgeous, which he knew he wouldn't get, but still, she looked better than some of the women he had dated before. His eyes went from her bespectacled eyes down to her pink blouse and continued down to her floral skirt. He imagined the two of them together running through fields of...

"Excuse me, **SIR**. If you can take your eyes off me for at least a minute and get your boss out here, I would probably appreciate it." Her loud, pissed- off sounding command was all that was needed to break Gabe's trance.

He replied, "Well, Miss. I just so happen to be the owner. My name is Knight, Gabriel Knight."

"Yeah, right. No one with hair that looks like it got tangled in a lawn mower could ever gather enough money to own a store."

"Hey, wait a minute, it just so happens I spent hours fixing my hair to look this good..." Gabriel stopped himself, realizing that this useless bickering would only blow his chances of getting an assistant. "I'm sorry, Miss. But I am the owner and only employee of this bookshop. I'm looking for an assistant because I'm also an accomplished writer."

Gabe was stretching this a little bit. Sure, he was a writer, but what he didn't want to tell her is that he had accomplished nothing but failure during his career. That was going to change, however, if he could ever hire someone to tend to the store while he did his research. "I'm sorry to say I have not heard of any of your books." Gabe was starting to feel as if he was fighting a losing battle. He didn't know what was keeping him from dismissing this annoying woman, no matter how good-looking she was, and wait for someone better to come along.

Because no one else would coming along! "Well, forget about that. I'm sorry to say that most of them aren't very good." He was right about that. "Let's get on with this, Miss..I believe I never did catch your name." "That's because I didn't throw it." _*drum set sound*_ **Diddy-BOOM!** "It's Grace Nakimura."

Grace went on to tell Gabriel about why she wanted to work at St. George's Rare Books. She was a student a Yale, specializing in research. Gabe found this part very useful. Maybe she wouldn't mind helping him out on that part of his book. She went on to tell him that she recently moved to New Orleans for temporary courses in art at Tulane, as well as some time to enjoy the city's unique culture. She was looking for some work during the day to pass her time. She saw the ad Gabriel had placed in the paper, and since she was very interested in old books, she decided to seek employment here.

Although Gabriel tried to remain interested, he could barely stifle a yawn, which Grace had noticed. "I'm sorry if my little story has passed your low level of attention, Mr. Knight."

Gabriel dismissed a retort. Besides, he didn't want her in too foul a mood when he asked her the one thing he didn't want to discuss. "I'm sorry, Miss Nakimura, but I was up too late last night," not all entirely false, "Now, the last thing I need to discuss with you is the matter of payment. Since this is a rare bookshop, many people don't come in here for certain periods of time. Because of that, money matters can be a little tight. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to pay you whenever we get purchases."

That's it. It's over. She's either going to kindly refuse and leave, or if she's as rude as she was over the phone, she'll laugh right in his face.

"That's all right, Mr. Knight. I could tell over the phone that you were lying about the 'heavy business' hours. I've been in numerous rare bookshops. I have enough money with me to tide me over until I go back to school full-time in the fall. So, do I get the job?"

Gabe didn't know what to say. She was willing to work for what could be nothing. On the other hand, she had an attitude which matched his own. Still, on the other hand, she was good looking.

After deciding he had too many hands, Gabriel muttered, "All right, you can start work tomorrow. I need you here an hour before we open. If I'm not up, then don't wake me. Just hold the fort until I do."

"I'll bet you want me to make the coffee and fetch the paper when I arrive, too."

"Only if you're not swamped with customers." Gabriel could have sworn she tried to stifle a laugh when he said this.

"No problem, Knight. I'll be here. And don't worry, I have a feeling I won't ever be going into your room as long as I work here." A part of Gabriel started to laugh when she said this. She then left Gabriel to himself. He supposed that he could live working with her, even if she was annoying. Besides, it was only until the fall.

He decided to finish reading the paper, but he still ignored the headline. Instead, his eyes turned to an article which mentioned rumors of Chicago drug traffickers making a possible move into New Orleans. Maybe he would speak to Mosely about this sometime. But not today. In fact, he could barely stay awake to finish the day.

When closing time did come 72 hours later (it was really 8 hours later, but the rest of the day didn't help him to stay awake), he made a sandwich of the remains of his shopping trip three weeks earlier. He didn't even try coming up with a new story idea, his mind was already half-asleep. He turned in early, not wanting to wake-up too late for the new employee tomorrow. Gabriel thought about Grace, which suddenly made him think of his horoscope. He couldn't take his mind off of it. Had it been right? Well, so far the "opposing views" part was the only thing, but the ally part? Yeah, right. Like he was going to go on some big adventure in his life! The only adventure he was going on right now was how to avoid unemployment and repossesss....

Gabriel didn't have enough waking power to finish that thought.

  


**April 20, 1993**

_9:00a.m._

Gabriel's dream was interrupted by the smell of coffee. Good thing, too, because it was starting out too weird. Why had he even dreamed of a woman tied to a stake, anyway? Hell, his love life was bad enough without thinking of such stuff. The fire around her didn't help to change his mind.

His mind quickly sprung awake to the thought of the coffee. He didn't even remember making coffee the night before, he couldn't believe he left it on the whole night. Without thinking, Gabriel rushed out into his store and rushed to the counter. On the counter was a full pot of coffee next to the paper, which was stacked nice and neatly. He couldn't even remember placing it so neatly next to the coffee he couldn't remember making. He glanced down at the date on the paper. It wasn't the same paper! Was he losing his mind?

"If you're going to come out here without a shirt on everyday, then I'm going to file for worker's comp."

Gabriel turned around to find Grace sitting at the counter. "When did you get here, Grace?"

"At eight, just like you told me."

"So if I told you to sleep with me, would you do that, too?"

"Only after I was declared clinically brain-dead. Why don't you have a cup of coffee? Maybe what you call a brain should wake-up before your mouth gets you in deep trouble." Gabe couldn't say no to that. "But first, please put on a shirt!"

After his second cup, Gabriel woke-up enough to realize that Grace had taken down a few books from the shelves. "What are you doing with those books?"

"Well, after I was able to fight off all of the customers, I pulled down a couple of books, just to see what kind of condition they were in. Obviously, your writing must take up most of your time. A lot of these books are in poor condition. No wonder nobody wants to buy them."

"Well, how do you suppose I repair them, Grace? Use spit and glue? I don't have the necessary tools to fix them nor do I have the money to buy them."

"God, it's a good thing you hired me. I happen to have some things at my apartment. I could bring them tomorrow and work on some of them."

"You must not have any sort of personal life."

"Better to have no life than your life, Knight. Besides, I don't intend on reverting back to a troglodyte, which seems to be your future the way you keep staring at my legs like a brainless idiot."

To tell the truth, Gabriel didn't even notice that he had done so. Must come with the years of hunting for the opposite sex. Instead of bothering to think of a retort, Gabriel just picked up the newspaper. Unlike yesterday, the headline caught his immediate attention:

**Police Confirm Rumors of Chicago Gangs** _In an interview with this reporter, Detective Mosely of the N.O.P.D. confirmed that members of a Chicago crime organization have started to move into the city. "We recently arrested two...drug dealers last night, who confessed to pushing illegal narcotics given to them by Chicago men." When asked if there had been any apprehension of actual gang members, Detective Mosely replied, "As of yet, no arrests have been made. We do know that the drugs recovered last night are just a sign of things to come. However, the citizens of New Orleans have nothing to fear. The N.O.P.D. will place their full attention and resources to stopping the invasion of outside crime into the city before it becomes out of hand."_

Gabriel leaned against the counter. He began running through his mind possible plot ideas he could write about. He didn't particularly like true- life stories like this; all of his previous novels had been supernatural thrillers spawned from his own imagination, but a writer in his position can't afford to deny a possible story idea. Besides, his supernatural thrillers couldn't satisfy the general public, then maybe a true-life crime story would. And as an added bonus, Mosely was working on the case. Surely he could convince Mosely into revealing just enough so that he could start on a possible plot.

After finishing the article, Gabriel turned to the horoscope. Hopefully, today's message wouldn't be as confusing at first as yesterday's was.

_Do not ignore the current conflicts for today, even if they don't affect you. In time, they will all focus on you, though they may not be the same problem._

No such luck.

Throwing the paper down, Gabriel walked towards the coat rack, whipped on his black leather trench, and muttered a quick "I'm going out," in Grace's direction.

"Going to do a little research for a new book, Knight?"

Gabriel tried as hard as he could to ignore the high tone of sarcasm in her voice. Instead of retorting with what he felt like saying, he simply replied, "As a matter of fact, I am. Try not to sell out the store while I'm gone." Gabriel revved up the engine, cleared the road, and headed towards the police station.

Gabriel was pissed off. Instead of going his normal, quicker way to the police station, he'd headed north and traveled on North Rampart, which not only took longer, but today the traffic was backed up due to a funeral procession. Gabriel was wondering what possessed him to take this way.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was being watched. He turned his attention to a car which stopped in front of him while turning into St. Louis Cemetery #1. The window was rolled down partially, and Gabriel found himself staring into the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Even though her face was hidden by a veil, Gabriel could've sworn the woman was looking directly at him. He felt recognition in the exchange of glances. His eyes followed the car into the cemetery, then followed the passengers to a heavily ornamented tomb. On the tomb, Gabriel could barely make out a name: Gedde. The name from the paper! Still, he couldn't figure out why he was here. And who was that woman? Gabriel felt he was in a supernatural novel.

"Sir, you can move on now." The street cop's command quickly broke Gabe's novel fantasy. He started up his bike again, which he had turned off to preserve his fuel, made a left on Conti, and headed for the police station, not looking back.

He didn't know if he had made it to the police station or if he had made a wrong turn and ended up at a reporter's convention. Reporters from both television and newspaper, from local to out-of-town, from recognizable veterans to obscure rookies had gathered inside the police station. Gabriel had barely been able to squeeze himself through the sea of inquisitive sharks. He looked around, seeing if he could find the desk sergeant, but he was unsure if he could find the desk.

"Gabe!" He heard Mosely's heavily accented voice, but couldn't find its origin. Pretty weird how he couldn't spot a polyester suit among all of these people. "Gabe! Over here!" Behind the desk to his right, Gabriel saw Mosely waving at him. Gabe made a quick hop over the bench and quickly squirmed his way towards Mosely. "Go on in, I'll be right there. Gotta get rid of these morons first."

Gabe nodded, then quickly opened and shut the door, as if the reporters would suddenly seep through any crack into the room. As usual, Mosely's office was a war zone with the decimated bodies of past cases strewn all about. However, the last thing on Gabe's mind right now was finding a way to insult his life-long friend. Besides, he needed to find a mirror to make sure the chaos outside didn't mess-up his hair. Unfortunately, Mosely's hair line wasn't making any change from its gradual retreat; as a result, Mosely tried as hard as he could to avoid mirrors. Gabe used his faint reflection in Mosely's two-way mirror to try to fix as much as he could make out.

"You always were the vain one, Knight. Maybe you should look into a real mirror and you'd see your hair looks like crap!" Gabe quickly finished running his hand through his hair and turned to face the bulky, polyester- wearing body of Detective Mosely. Gabriel summoned all of his will power to sit down and avoid one-upping Mosely's insult. Mosely sat down on the opposite side and cocked an eyebrow. "Let's see, given the fact that you arrived here about the same time those freakin' reporters arrived here and you didn't come back with a better insult, you must want information on the Chicago gang invasion."

"Well, then you didn't get this job on your good looks alone." Gabriel made sure that Mosely heard his sarcastic tone, because he didn't want to regret him repeating that ever again.

"I tell you Knight, you're too predictable. Don't blame you, though. There are reporters who would rip off their manhood to get all of the information we got from Lytton P.D. about the work these Chicago druglords are planning on."

"**Lytton**? I thought Lytton was in California."

"It is, but they had some psycho from Chicago who tried to take over all the drug activity there back in '87. Not only that, but he even developed a personal vendetta against the cop who busted him. Kidnapped his girlfriend and led a killing spree all the way to New Mexico before the man got his ticket punched."

"I trust there's a point to this little police drama?"

"Well, Lytton feared a possible follow-up, so they kept tabs on the activity there. The information they gave us matches our situation exactly. You know, I'm already having enough trouble as it is. My wife starting to talk divorce, the domestic crime isn't starting to let up, and now some friggin' Chicago punks who can't get nothin' done on their own turf are trying to get the drop on us."

Gabriel had just about enough of Mosely's vivid depiction of his social life. Might as well ask him now before he jumps out the window without asking first. "So, you going to tell me what I want to know?"

"Knight, now you know I can't divulge confidential police information to the public. Hell, what do you think I was doing out there? You think they were giving us information?"

"C'mon, Mosely. I'm having trouble coming up with a new idea for a book and I think I can do something with this."

"Now what kind of idiot do you take me for?" Again, Gabriel resisted. "I know all you write are supernatural ghost stories. Hell, I know you even hate those true crime books."

Gabriel knew he was losing, so he called on the one thing he hoped he didn't have to mention," Look, if you help me with this, I may be able to make you the main character."

That did it. Before the words had time to leave Gabriel's mouth, Mosely went from barely-giving-a-care slouching to complete-and-undivided- attention straightness. "You serious 'bout that, Knight?"

Gabriel had him, now to get even for earlier, "Mostly, you just heard me. I need a book, and you need help. If you gave me all I need, I would not only give you the role, I'd dedicate it to you."

Gabriel knew he had him; all that was left was to get what he needed. "Well, only if you promise not to go flipping your mouth to other people 'bout this, especially the press!"

"Mostly, you know me."

"Yeah, and you're lucky I don't hold that against you. Well, I guess so. Grab a pen and paper."

This was the part Gabriel hated most. He kept promising himself he'd buy a tape recorder. He hated writing by hand. Oh, well. Maybe next payday he'll still have a job to use it for. Fishing out a pen and a notepad from his jacket, Gabriel wrote for the past hour about information Mosely had gathered from not only streets, but from the Lytton correspondents. Despite his previous disdain, Gabriel found himself becoming interested in what was developing. Maybe he could start a whole series like this. Then again, truth is always stranger than fiction; besides, he knew he couldn't keep writing about Mosely. He didn't realize how desperate he was for a book until after he'd promised him. Oh, well. It's not like his next book would be any different from the other stuff he wrote. This time, he could blame the bad sales on Mosely.

When Mosely was finished, Gabe thanked him and stood up to leave. "Hey, Knight. I saw your ad in the paper. Hired anyone yet?"

"Yeah, just yesterday. Her name's Grace Nakimura."

"Grace, huh? I may have to come down there someday, that is, if you're not too busy."

"Put it this way, knock before entering."

"Yeah, right. Last time I saw you, you were with Lolita."

"Don't start. I'll talk to ya later." "Later, Knight."

Gabriel had been out longer than he thought. It was nearly closing time when he arrived back at the store. Grace announced that she had finished two books. "Great, but don't expect a raise. Any calls while I was gone?"

"Yeah, a couple of them. First, Margaret called, asking if it's all over, and Barbie said to call soon or it will be over."

"Toss 'em."

"Ooh, a little irresponsible, are we. And to think I was ready to run away with you to Vegas."

"How about just running away? Or am I that irresistible?"

"Yeah, that and your well-groomed hair."

Gabriel had to stifle a little snicker. Despite himself, he was actually starting to like her as a friend. Was he getting soft? Grace got out of the seat and announced, "Well, it's closing time."

"Need a ride home?"

"Nice try, Knight. I've got a martial arts class. Besides, if you knew where I lived, I'd be forced to look for a new home. See you tomorrow."

After she closed the door, Gabriel began to wonder if she wasn't lying about that class. Martial arts? Maybe he should be a little more careful about what he said.

Reading his mail, Gabriel found a mail-order catalog with a hand-held cassette recorder. It was priced much lower than the types in the store, and it also came with fifteen free cassettes. Gabriel tore out the advertisement and the form. Looking in the cash register, he decided against borrowing from it. Maybe until he acquired more money. Besides, he had a feeling that Mosely wouldn't be getting much information anytime soon. The information he had now, though, was enough to get him started on the plot immediately.

Well, maybe tomorrow.


	2. Turning Point

Author's Notes: All characters and references are copyright Sierra On- Line. Only the interpretation of events is my doing, and is all based on material from Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers.  
  
Turning Point  
  
May 12, 1993  
  
10:14a.m.  
  
It was a day like any other day for Jack Mostly. Working as a detective began many routines which were as unbreakable as brushing one's teeth in the morning. Today started out no different. That is, until the phone rang. Leaning over, Mostly picked up the phone and in a heavily accented baritone answered, "Detective Jack Mostly. How can I serve you." "Yes, this is  
  
Who? Who was it? Gabriel stared at the mostly blank page, racking his brain for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past four weeks. Why was this so hard? It's just like writing supernatural novels, except this was practically real. Gabriel ran his hands through his hair, as if the thought he needed to complete the entire book was tangled in his beloved locks. Rubbing his hand under his chin, he discovered stubble from not shaving for the past week. Defeated, Gabriel pulled the paper from his typewriter, crumbled it up quickly, and went for the hook shot. Rejected. No big surprise there. Gabriel leaned back in his chair and tried to forget the past four weeks.  
  
Mostly...er, Mosely arrived at the store on the 24th to discuss the book with Gabe. Of course, that was the first time Mosely had been in the store since he had hired Grace. Needless to say, Mosely had to pick-up his jaw from the floor. Gabe had to escort Mosely to his room before he said anything stupid. He was almost afraid that Mosely would stop breathing; it's a good thing he didn't, because neither Gabe nor Grace were willing to give mouth-to-mouth, and then Gabriel would've been out of a book.  
  
Of course, it's not like he had a book now. And to make matters worse, Mosely didn't have anything new to offer, which was the same story for the past four weeks. The Chicago invaders had hired local small-time dealers to push their drugs through the streets. Although easily caught, they weren't able to lead the police back to the providers. While the police were bound by red tape, the Chicago men were steadily gaining power. This was the only thing Gabriel had to work with. And unfortunately, it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted a gang war, an execution or two, or at least some form of drama. All he was getting from Mosely was how he couldn't do anything until they made their move. All they were waiting for, Gabriel had thought, was for the leaders to yell "checkmate".  
  
On the up-side, the store had made a few sales towards the end of the month, so Gabriel was able to get rid of what little guilt he had of not ever paying Grace. There was enough for him to re-stock his fridge and order the tape recorder he'd seen in the magazine. Still, he was forced to hand-write everything until it arrived.  
  
Grace had done a good job fixing some of the books, which sort of made-up for her daily insults. Gabe didn't mind, though. There was almost nothing he couldn't come back on. Too bad she was still insistent on not spending a few nights with him. Seemed like a waste of human flesh, and good-looking flesh at that. He could see himself lying down in Jackson Square, the band playing their merry little tunes, the two of them gazing at each other, drawing ever so closer to one another until.  
  
Gabriel quickly straightened when his phone rang. These fantasy interruptions were starting to really annoy him.  
  
Gabriel picked-up the phone, "Gabriel Knight, speaking."  
  
"Knight? It's your publisher. We need to talk."  
  
Uh-oh. He'd heard this before. Ever since his first novel, his publisher constantly threatened to drop him from their client list. Like it was his fault the public didn't like his novels. So far, they had been lenient, but he knew when they could be serious, and he hoped this wasn't one of those times.  
  
Yeah, and the next call will be from Ed McMahon and he'll be able to retire. "Sure, how have you been?"  
  
"Cut the small talk, Knight. This is serious. Your last book hasn't sold the expected amount we were hoping for. As a matter of fact, all of your books haven't sold the amount we were hoping for. The head of the publishing have been thinking of dropping you from our list. And from your past record, I don't think there looks to be anything to change their minds."  
  
This was bad. His publisher always gave him an optimistic explanation for his failure and offered him numerous second chances. This had about as much optimism as his sales from the store. "Look, can't you give me just a few more months? I'm right in the middle of a book here. It's a true-crime novel, and I think this will sell."  
  
"True-crime novel? You haven't been successful with supernatural fiction! What makes you think your one-track mind could handle truth? Here's some truth for you: This book better appear on the best-sellers lists, or you will be appearing on the unemployment lists. I'm not kidding, Knight. By the end of the year, we better have a best-seller from you."  
  
The slam of the phone added the anger in the publisher's voice. This was very bad. It was bad enough that he was having problems coming up with a story, now he had until the end of the year, and it had to be a best- seller. Grabbing a new sheet of paper, he ran it into the aging machine, sat as comfortable as a condemned man, and concentrated as hard as he could.  
  
Detective Mostly sat back, waiting for a new case to come to him. The phone rang, and it was his ungrateful publisher saying that his work was garbage and even though they wouldn't know quality if it bit them on their butts, they were going to drop him anyway.  
  
Gabriel ripped the paper out of the machine, tearing it in the process. Frustrated, he kicked the trash can over, slammed the chair against the wall, and shouted obscenities he never heard come from even Mosely's extended vocabulary. He stormed out of his room, nearly ripping the curtain off of the frame. He headed straight for the newspaper on the counter, which he had yet to read. He searched for any story about the Chicago drug leaders, hoping that they had any information which Mosely hadn't told them.  
  
The front page headline caught his eye: No New Development in the Chicago Drug Invasion.  
  
Giving a short explicative, not caring if anyone was in the store to here it, Gabriel turned to the horoscope.  
  
"Don't become discouraged by bad luck. Look to your friends for support during the bad times, because the tide will soon turn in your favor."  
  
Gabriel tore the paper in two and slammed it down in the trash.  
  
"Are you okay, Knight?"  
  
Gabriel turned and faced the concerned, almost scared impression on the face of his assistant. Despite his rage, he detected no sarcasm in her voice. Good, he wasn't in the mood for any of her attitude today.  
  
"Nothing you need to know about, Grace. Just get back to whatever you're doing."  
  
Grabbing his coat, Gabriel muttered, "I'm going out," not waiting for her to come back with some sarcastic comment. She said nothing, just looked on with the same concerned look on her face.  
  
Gabriel mounted his bike and was about to rev the engines when he heard a car horn behind him. He turned to find Mosely sitting in the driver seat of his car, waving Gabe over. Gabriel dismounted and walked towards his friend.  
  
"Where you headin', Gabe? I have the day off, and I really need to speak with you."  
  
Good, because Gabriel had a few words to say to him, too. "I was heading for the Napoleon House. You mind if we speak there?"  
  
Gabe didn't hide the anger in his voice, and Mosely had seen him like this enough times before to not piss him off anymore than he was. "Sure, buddy. Let me drive you there. You don't need to be drivin' all mad like that." Gabriel agreed, since he was in no mood for driving. They remained quiet the whole way to the bar.  
  
Mosely bought both of them a beer. He carried them over to the table, where Gabriel sat with his face in his hands. "Knight, I need to speak to you about the book."  
  
Gabriel grabbed the beer, swallowed the entire drink in one gulp, and signal for a refill. "What book?"  
  
"The book you were writing about the Chicago invasion."  
  
The waiter arrived with Gabe's refill. "I'm no author, Knight."  
  
"No kidding," Gabriel interrupted, with no humor.  
  
".but I don't think you will be able to write anything interesting about this whole operation. The last information I received was that these guys are heavily connected with the Chicago Mafia. Unfortunately, that was two weeks ago. We know that the heads are planning on coming in, but that doesn't require much detective work." Gabriel had finished half of the beer around this time. ".and unfortunately for us, the guys are making their first move in the underworld. Right now, I only have one informant who's that deep, and still he hasn't told me anything new. My guess is they'll try to blend in with the local slime. We're going to be fighting on two fronts. Not much of an exciting plot there, right?"  
  
"I'm getting the feeling that there never was a plot." Gabriel downed the remaining contents of the glass. "You don't mind if I order a few more, do you?"  
  
Mosely hadn't even started on his glass yet. "Sure, Knight. I just got paid with a bonus. Just don't over-do it."  
  
Gabriel glared at Mosely with a nasty look upon mention of his pay. Instead of speaking something which might offend some people, Gabriel just waved to the waiter.  
  
"Look, Gabe. I'm sorry if you're out of a book, but writing about this would be literaturistic suicide. I'll tell you what, I'll call you the next time we get anything interesting in, and hopefully, you can 'modify' it to make it a little more interesting."  
  
Gabriel stared at the contents of his new glass during Mosely's monologue. After he finished, Gabriel up-ended the glass. Mosely took a long swig from his own glass. He nearly dropped it when he heard the slam of Gabriel's glass on the table. Once again signaling for a refill, Gabriel laid his head between his hands and muttered something which had the effect of insulting one's heritage.  
  
"Look, Knight. I'm as mad as you are. But you're blowing this out of proportions. Hell, you even said yourself you couldn't do anything with the book. What's eatin' your."  
  
Mosely was cut off when Gabriel slammed his fist on the table. "There never was a friggin' book, Mosely! I spent the last four weeks trying to come up with a first paragraph, and I couldn't do it. I can't do true-crime! I can't believe I even thought I could. Besides, it's not that I'm teed-off about. My publisher called saying I had till the end of the year to come up with a best-seller, not a book. Now, it doesn't take a detective of your caliber to find out that I haven't even written a book which has sold over 100 copies! If I can't write this book, then I'm out of a job! The book store won't support me for long. Despite what people say, nothing interesting occurs in New Orleans. Unless these Chicago drug pushers become Satan-worshipping cannibals, I can't write about anything."  
  
Mosely stared wide-eyed at Gabriel during the whole explosion. No one else had noticed, either too drunk or too caught up in themselves to notice even Gabriel's loud voice. Gabriel reached for the glass, took a big swallow, then tried to place it back on the table, but it fell onto the floor. Mosely had seen this before; Gabriel could usually hold his liquor, but when he was angry, he got drunk quickly. It was a good thing he had driven Gabriel here, and not allow Knight to wreck on his bike.  
  
Mosely realized it was time to take Knight home. "I'm sorry, Gabe. I didn't know you were in it so deep. If things come to worse, then you could stay with."  
  
" Worse? How the hell can it get any worse? Look around, Mosely; the next time you visit me, I will be employed as the babbling drunk who's waiting for some merciful lunatic with a gun to end my worthless existence with a bullet!" Gabriel placed his hand next to his head and began swaying. "Ooohh, I don't feel so good."  
  
Mosely quickly jumped up and caught Knight before he fell completely to the floor. Tossing a couple of bills on the table, Mosely escorted his friend outside to the back seat of his car. He knew Gabriel wouldn't throw up; he sat through all of the high school anatomy class videos without flinching, but he wanted to get him home before he passed out completely.  
  
  
  
Grace had finished all of the book repair she could stand for a day, and had pulled out her paints to work on her class project. She'd glanced up at the painting on the wall next to the desk. When she first saw it, she was startled. She'd never seen a painting consisting of three snakes and a skull before. Of course, now that she had, it'd figure that Gabriel would own it. Still, she found it intriguing. What had possessed the artist to paint something so macabre? What kind of torment did he have in his soul which was being reflected in this? He must of had a hard time selling paintings if this one was any indication of his other work. Grace wondered what caused Gabriel to buy it, or for that matter, afford it? It was fascinating despite it's horrible depiction.  
  
The bell above the door rang. Expecting to hear Gabriel make a "witty" remark, she was surprised to see Mosely trying to open the door. God, she didn't know who was worse, Gabriel's chauvinistic remarks or his friend staring slack-jaw at her legs.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mosely. Gabriel left around eleven and he hasn't been back yet. Maybe if you come back lat." Grace suddenly noticed why Mosely was having trouble with the door, he was also trying to help someone who looked to be drunk off his rocker.  
  
"Grace, help me!" Grace jumped from her seat and ran over to the other side of the man Mosely was helping. It was then that Grace realized that the person drunk off his rocker was her own boss.  
  
"What happened to him?"  
  
"He had one-too-many drinks down at the Napoleon House. He told me how he was having trouble with his publisher, and that he may be in for some bad times if his next book isn't a best-seller."  
  
The two of them carried Gabriel back to his room. Grace saw the mess he had made for the first time. So that was what the commotion was about. After helping Gabriel to his bed, she picked up a torn sheet of paper with some writing on it. It must have been the last thing he was writing before he went maniacal. She could see why he was so mad after that phone call. She went into his bathroom, found an ice pack, and filled it with the ice from his fridge, nearly passing out herself from the smell which rose from it. After gently placing it on Gabriel's head, she and Mosely went out into the store.  
  
"Poor Gabriel. I didn't know he was having that much trouble with his writing. I thought he was kidding about being a writer."  
  
"Nope, he's written about five books already. The public never liked them. I thought they were quite interesting, but most people said that they were too far-fetched to be any good. Bunch of morons. That's the reason why I provided him with information about the Chicago Mafia."  
  
"Chicago Mafia?"  
  
"Yeah, he came to me asking if I would provide him with information about their invasion into New Orleans territory. Heck, I even thought it would make a good story. Unfortunately, the case wasn't going anywhere insofar as action or drama. Gabriel never did a true-crime novel before, and it looks like now he won't be doing anything. Didn't he tell you about it?"  
  
Grace shook her head. She felt sympathy for Gabriel for the first time since working at St. George's.  
  
"Well, thanks for bringing him home Mosely."  
  
"No problem, Grace. Have a nice night."  
  
For once, Mosely didn't say or do anything which would have supported her theory of the slow maturation of men. "Now, what am I going to do about him?"  
  
  
  
"Oooh, mah head." Gabriel sat up, and found that he was in his own bed. Slowly, his thoughts returned to him. He'd passed out just as Mosely arrived at his book shop. At least he knew where he was; his past encounter with women at bars have left him in places he never knew existed. He always hated when he passed out from drinking beer, because he knew when he woke up, he'd have a serious headache. In fact, it was right on schedule. He placed his hand on his head, and found something cold and wet on top. An ice pack? Who'd placed an ice pack on his head? What time was it? Looking at the clock on his dresser, he saw that it was 10:40 p.m. Grace must've gone to her classes by now. Good, he didn't want to talk to anyo.  
  
"How's your head, Gabriel?"  
  
He recognized the voice as Grace's, but it couldn't be, she never called him by his first name. He turned his eyes toward the kitchen, and found his assistant standing in the doorway.  
  
"What are you doing here? It's way past closing time!"  
  
She walked to the foot of the bed and sat down in his desk chair. "I wasn't going to leave you here unconscious. You were passed out for over six hours. I wanted to make sure you were okay. You need some aspirin?"  
  
Gabriel nodded, not comfortable to the thought of anyone other than his Grandma looking after him. Grace handed him the aspirin with a glass of water. He downed both with one gulp.  
  
"Mosely told me what happened, and why you were so angry this morning."  
  
"Fine, get it over with. Use them in your daily insults."  
  
"Would you shut up, Gabriel? I'm trying to show sympathy for you, and you continue to act like a jerk." Gabriel took the hint. "I wanted to say how sorry I am that you are in trouble with your publisher. I just thought you were trying to hit on me when you said you were a writer." Well.you're not entirely wrong there. "Is it true that you have till the end of the year to come up with a best-seller?" Gabriel nodded, trying to avoid as much talking as possible. "Look, if you need help researching for a book, then I'd be.glad.to help."  
  
Gabriel noticed her hesitation, but didn't feel like pointing it out. "Thanks, Grace."  
  
He hoped that she would leave, but she asked, "That painting in the store, the one with the snakes and skull, where did you get it from? And how could you afford it?"  
  
Hoping she'd leave soon, he replied, "My father painted it."  
  
"Your father is an artist?"  
  
He didn't want to talk about his past, headache or no. But still, she was uncharacteristically kind enough to look after him. "He was an artist. He and my mother died when I was only eight years old. Killed in a car wreck."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Look, stop being sorry. It's giving me a headache."  
  
Grace stifled a laugh, and even Gabriel smiled after saying that. "Glad to see you're returning to normal. What happened to you after they died?"  
  
"The only person I could live with was my Gran. She was the only remaining living relative who hadn't disowned her children."  
  
"If you're having trouble thinking of a book, you should write about your life. Either that or go see a psychiatrist."  
  
"Hilarious, Gracie. I haven't done anything interesting in my life and if the past indicates the future, nothing worth writing about will happen to me. As a matter of fact, I don't think my dad ever sold a painting. It was 'too dark and macabre' for the public. Sound familiar?"  
  
"You shouldn't be so pessimistic, Gabriel. It's bad for your karma."  
  
Gabriel let out a moan upon hearing what she had said. "Don't tell me you believe in that stuff, too!"  
  
"Well, you should think more optimistically, especially if your future is as bad as you think it's going to be."  
  
"Well, I'll think about that tonight. Look, it's getting pretty late, and this headache is getting worse. I need to get some rest."  
  
"Okay, Knight. I can take a hint." Yeah, too bad it takes you awhile. "Don't worry, Gabriel. You'll get the story you need. I can feel it."  
  
Yeah, yeah. Just leave. "Okay, Grace. Good night.and thanks." He laid his head back and waited for Grace to close the door, but he never heard her leave, because he had fallen asleep before she left.  
  
  
  
May 13, 1993  
  
12:57a.m.  
  
His head was killing him. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, he didn't even remember how he fell sleep. All he remembered was that he left the bar, and then everything when black. He hoped nobody had picked his pocket while he was out.  
  
Why had he ever come here? This town was full of low-life scum. He'd rather be back up north. Funny, he thought the walkway around the bar was concrete. He didn't remember any dirt around. And how come it was so bright? It was eleven when he left. Had he slept the whole night on the ground in front of the bar?  
  
He lifted his hand to feel his head, but he couldn't move.  
  
His hand was tied down!  
  
How the hell did that happen?  
  
He tried to untie it with his free hand, only he had no free hand. Both his hands were tied down, and so were his feet. He finally had time to look at himself.  
  
He was naked!  
  
What the hell was going on?  
  
Suddenly, the sound of drums filled his ears, followed by the screaming of people. Lifting his head as much as he could, he found several people.dancing? chanting? They were all completely naked, except for someting wrapped around their faces. They didn't even look human! Were they human? He couldn't tell. One of them, a tall, dark, completely naked man with a tattoo of wings on his back, walked towards him, carrying a live chicken in each hand. The dark man was strangling them, letting the blood pour on the panicked-stricken man. The man struggled against the ropes, but to no avail. The dark man patterned the blood into an unrecognizable shape on the man's chest. What the hell was going on?  
  
Everyone began chanting something new. He could barely make the words out, except for "Tetelo." What the hell did that mean?  
  
As if on cue, a new dancer came towards him. Up close, the dancer was obviously a woman. But what kind of woman? From the neck down, she had the body of a woman. However, her head was in the shape of a leopard!And in her hand was a wavy dagger. He didn't want to know what she was going to do with it. She waved it a few inches from his body, then held it high above her head. What had she said? Something about "Ogoun Badagris" and "sacrifice"? What sacrifi.?  
  
Suddenly, the dagger plunged with full force into his chest, sending pain screaming through his entire body. The dagger made a huge gash straight down the middle of his chest. He tried to scream, but couldn't. His cerebral activity was too busy registering the pain coursing through his naked body.  
  
The woman then plunged her hand into the open wound. A great pressure collected in his chest, but left when she pulled her hand out.  
  
...with his beating heart in it!  
  
Oh, GOD!  
  
How can he be seeing this? Why hadn't he died? His eyes followed the woman's body up to her face, where he saw the darkest, the most beautiful, and the most horrible eyes he'd ever seen. Suddenly, as if noticing his gaze, she began to emit a high-pitch laughter, almost like a cackle.  
  
It was the last thing he heard and saw before his body finally, mercifully, died.  
  
  
  
1:15p.m.  
  
He rubbed his chin, admiring the nice job he'd done. After a whole week of collecting morning stubble, he felt like a new man. Unfortunately, he was still the Gabriel Knight who would be out of a job if he couldn't come up with a good story.  
  
Oh well. After the horrible day yesterday, things could only go up from there. Gabriel put on his shirt, not bothering to make the bed, and walked out to get his first morning (or was it afternoon already?) cup of coffee.  
  
"I hope you feel better this morning, Knight. I don't feeling like playing nurse again. Nurses receive more than you pay me."  
  
Gabriel poured his cup, noticing how Grace had reverted back to her old, annoying persona he had grown to love.  
  
"Well, if it means that I can bring you back into my room, again." Grace rolled her eyes, and just decided to stop the little one-up contest before it backfired against her.  
  
With a smile, Gabriel downed the contents of his cup, though more carefully than the beer he consumed yesterday. Putting the cup down, he walked over to Grace. "Still, I want to thank you for being so concerned. I guess I just lost my head."  
  
"Couldn't be the first time. Seriously, though, I'm glad you're okay. I don't want to lose this job because my boss drank himself into unemployment."  
  
"Well, there's still that problem. I'm still in a writer's block. My only opportunity is not even interesting enough for a made-for-TV movie."  
  
"Maybe you should just stick to the supernatural and avoid true-life."  
  
"Yeah, if only the supernatural really existed. You know, like demon- worshipping cops, or satanic drug-dealers; something I could work with."  
  
"You're sick, Knight. I glad nothing like that could happen in real life."  
  
"Thanks for your support, Grace." Gabriel walked over to the paper, completely avoiding the headline. Instead, he immediately turned to his horoscope.  
  
"The tides have now turned for you. Take advantage of the first opportunity for success."  
  
"Why do I even bother?" Gabriel replace the paper. And leaned on the counter, trying to come up with some form of story idea. His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing.  
  
"St. George's Rare Books.oh, hello Detective Mosely.yes, he's awake.okay, I'll get him. Gabe, it's Mosely."  
  
"Well, duh! I'm not deaf." Grace handed him the phone and continued with her painting. "Hey, Mostly!.yeah, I'm feeling better.yeah, I could come down there.what are you talking about? What do you mean be discreet?.look, I'll be there in thirty minutes."  
  
Gabriel hung up the phone. What was Mosely's problem? He began to wonder who was the one who drank too much. "I'm going to the police station, Grace."  
  
"Good, it's better that you finally turn yourself in."  
  
"If I was going to turn myself in, I'd be sure I'd kill you first to justify the prison time. And if I'm going to kill you, I'll at least try to get away with it." Gabriel revved up his bike and made sure he avoided the cemetery this time.  
  
The police station was practically deserted. Gabriel remembered how it used to be a claustrophobic's nightmare. Now, all the reporters had moved on to bigger and better stories. How he envied them.  
  
Mosely was outside his office waiting for him. Signaling him without talking, they entered his office. Once the door closed, Gabriel whispered, "Shouldn't we check to see if the room was bugged?"  
  
"Knock it off, Knight. What I'm about to tell you could get me in trouble, or it could save your job." Gabriel suddenly became interested, so he sat down quietly. "So, Knight, come up with any new book ideas?"  
  
"Mostly, if I wanted to be insulted, I'd have stayed at the book store and pay Grace for it."  
  
"Okay, I'll get to the point. But first, you have to promise that anything you hear never leaves this office, unless you plan on making a book about it."  
  
Tired of playing games, Gabriel quickly replied, "Sure, Mosely, just get to the point."  
  
"There was a murder last night."  
  
"Oh no! Not a murder!"  
  
"Yeah, some poor loser got his ticket punched last night. We found some identification near the victim, a man from Chicago. We think he may be tied into the Chicago Mafia, because we found large amounts of crack and reefer in his clothes."  
  
"Is this your idea of a joke? I told you yesterday, I'm not interested in the Chicago Mafia! I don't care if I get dropped from my publisher, I won't write about it."  
  
"Do you think this is a joke??" Mosely handed Gabriel a photograph. Gabriel took it, looked at it, and thought he was going to throw up. The picture showed a completely naked man, a look of extreme pain and fear held on his face by rigor mortis. In the center of his chest was a hole the size of a fist, and from the looks of things, nothing occupied the hole, although Gabriel was sure something should. Around the body were feathers and partial patterns in a white substance. Blood was everywhere. Gabriel handed back the photo, the blood drained from his face. He'd seen numerous horror movies in his life. He would have sworn the picture was from a movie, if Mosely hadn't told him beforehand, with the utmost seriousness.  
  
"What the hell happened?"  
  
"Got a call early this morning. Body was found in the bayou. The place was right out of a horror movie. Tied up, covered in blood, but the coroner says that not all of it was his. That pattern in the ground was made out of flour. The chickens which owned the feathers were laying dead nearby, their throats broken by hand."  
  
Gabriel pulled out his pen and notebook, not wanting to miss anything. "What about the hole in the victim's chest?"  
  
"Cut made by some sort of dagger. But that's not what killed him. His heart was ripped out from the hole. Coroner says by hand. We couldn't find it anywhere near the murder site. The coroner also said that he didn't die until a minute after it was ripped out. This poor guy saw the whole thing."  
  
Gabriel's eyes bulged at this. He never believed that someone could, or would, do such a thing. "Any idea who could have done it?"  
  
"Not a freakin' clue. We found some partial footprints in the dirt, but they're so distorted that there's no way we could identify them to anybody."  
  
Gabriel sat on the edge of his seat, literally. "What about all that flour and feathers?"  
  
Mosely leaned close, signaling Gabriel to do the same. "You ever hear of voodoo, Knight?"  
  
Gabriel felt like slapping Mosely. Hello! I'm into the supernatural stories and I live in New Orleans! "Of course, Mosely. So what?"  
  
"Well, I haven't verified it yet, but I have a strong suspicion that this may have been a ritual killing. I'm going to see a specialist, though, so that I can have verification. Still, genuine or not, I had a strong feeling that you could do something with this. Interested?"  
  
Gabriel was starting to sweat. He hated when Mosely played with him like this. But Mosely never had the best true-crime story ever. Not only could he base it on a real case, but it involved voodoo. People ate that mumbo- jumbo up! "Okay, Mosely, who do I have to kill to get it."  
  
Mosely leaned back in his chair, showing off his less-than-stellar physique. "Well, since it is a true-crime novel, I see no reason why you can't use me as the main character."  
  
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I'll see if I can. But seriously, anything else?"  
  
Regaining the serious look, Mosely continued, "Knight, I don't need to tell you that we don't want the media in on this. We've been able to avoid them so far, but eventually they'll find out. I don't want you to tell anyone what went on in this office today. This is top secret."  
  
Gabriel knew that Mosely wasn't joking, so he slowly nodded his head.  
  
"Now Knight, I will tell you that we don't know the motive of these psychopaths yet. For all we know, they could be a rival drug cartel trying to keep the Mafia out of their territory. They are, therefore, not a threat to the citizens of this city. However, there's no telling what could happen. I don't think you'll be getting information from someone other than me, but if you do, I want to know about it. If you can't do this, then I want you to look at that picture again, and imagine yourself lying there with your heart ripped out of your chest." Gabriel thought Mosely was getting a little overboard, but he agreed, just to get out of the office. He quickly pocketed his notes, left the station, and headed back to St. George's.  
  
Gabriel entered the book shop, not saying a word. Grace noticed he had what looked like a piece of paper in his hand.  
  
"What's that, Knight?" Gabriel didn't reply; he just continued walking into the bedroom. Grace sat there, spellbound.  
  
She was about to go back to her paintings when Gabriel came back out, hung up his jacket, and walked over to her. "Grace, I want to close early. I need some time to think."  
  
Grace was about to protest, but she sensed that the talk with Mosely had provided Gabriel with a new book idea. Not wanting to be blamed for a lost thought, Grace gathered her things and headed for the door. "See you tomorrow, Gabriel?"  
  
"Yeah. Good night, Grace."  
  
Grace sensed that something was wrong. Gabriel just stared at her, but it was like he didn't see her. She dismissed the idea and headed for the university.  
  
Gabriel sat down at his type-writer, examining all the notes he'd written at his meeting with Mosely. He leaned back in his chair, thought for a whole minute, then leaned forward and began typing. He typed until his eyes refused to remain open, sometime around one in the morning. Quickly scribbling a few notes on his notepad, Gabriel settled down in his bed.  
  
He could barely sleep, but not from all the ideas he had for the book. His mind couldn't stop thinking about the photograph. The man's face showed fear and pain that not even the best actors could duplicate. As he began to lose consciousness, his thought reflected on what Mosely had said,  
  
"Imagine yourself lying there with your heart ripped from your chest."  
  
What had Gabriel gotten himself into this time? And was it worth a best- seller? Before he could weigh his options, he had fallen asleep. 


	3. Investigations

Author's Notes: All characters and references are copyright Sierra On- Line. Only the interpretation of events is my doing, and is all based on material from Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers.  
  
Investigations  
  
May 31, 1993  
  
11:51a.m.  
  
She looked at her latest patient, one she had only talked to over the phone. His eyes were bloodshot, but not the same way they would be from lack of sleep. His hair looked as if he'd slept on it for three days straight. His clothes were soiled and torn. His face suggested that what he'd seen prior to this visit was something she didn't want to know about. He looked around nervously, as if expecting to be attacked at any minute. Why should he be afraid? She had promised him over the phone that they would be completely alone upon his arrival.  
  
"Please sit down, Mr.?" "Quiet! They can hear you anywhere we are!" This guy came to the wrong doctor; he doesn't need an orthodontist, he needed a psychologist. The man sat in the chair, once again looking around. "Now, what can I help you with?" The man slowly turned his head to her, all the while sweating up a storm. "Have you heard of the voodoo killings in the papers?" She nodded her head, hoping that he wasn't implying what she thought he was implying. "But the voodoo aspect is fake, isn't it? The police said that it was." "Well, I have something which you need to remove. Something which proves that there is a legitimate voodoo cult behind these killings." The man opened his mouth, and the orthodontist peered in.  
  
Inside she saw  
  
"Not again!"  
  
Gabriel stood up and stretched. He'd finally completed a prologue and a first chapter for his book, and now he was stuck. He thought that basing his novel on the recent murders of three Chicago Mafia drug pushers would bring in tons of great ideas, especially when there was possible evidence of voodoo.  
  
Well, it did bring in tons of ideas. Unfortunately, none of them had been any good. Most of them didn't make it past the first paragraph, while some didn't last to the second chapter. His latest work was the best he'd thought of, and that's not saying much. Gabriel fell down onto his bed, hoping to get some rest and think up some way to continue his current storyline. All he could think about was the past three weeks.  
  
He had soon realized that a true crime book was out of the question. He preferred writing fiction, because he controlled the story. However, he didn't want to miss the chance to base his book on such an interesting case. It isn't everyday that one writes about a series of murders with signs of voodoo. What helped the most was that Mosely was the head of the investigation, and he was more than willing to provide him with information for a possible best-selling novel. Of course, he was also under the impression that it was still a true crime book based on his investigation. Gabriel planned on telling him that the story would be a lot better if it was just based on the murders and had a made-up character. Maybe he'd tell him after he sent it to the publisher. Still, he did feel a little guilty about not telling him about it, but he didn't want to risk the loss of information even the press wasn't receiving.  
  
Gabriel almost wished he wasn't doing this book. So far, there have been three murders. All have been identified as Chicago Mafia drug dealers planning on moving into the New Orleans drug business. The corpses were found in remote places, with chicken feathers, blood (both chicken blood and blood of the victims), and obscure symbols in flour. The victims were always found tied to the ground and naked, with their hearts missing from their bodies. That part didn't bother him too much. What bothered him was the look of sheer terror permanently etched on their faces. They didn't die until one minute after their hearts were removed. Being friends with a detective, you see a lot of sick things, but these murders made everything he had seen before, including every horror movies he'd seen, seem like fairy tale stories in comparison.  
  
These murders seemed to have gotten to him; ever since he saw that first picture, he has had numerous nightmares. Last night's nightmare had him walking in a swamp, with the decaying, heartless corpses reaching out of the muck and pulling him down, all the while a shadowy figure laughing at him. Luckily, he woke up just as his head was going under. Despite the intensity of the nightmares, at least they didn't compare to the repeated nightmare he had as a child. He didn't even want to think about that nightmare, for fear that it might return to haunt him yet again.  
  
"Gabriel! Come here, quick!" Grace's voice broke Gabriel out of his resting state and sent him bolting out into the store. Gabe found Grace by the coffee pot holding the front page of the paper up to her face. "You've got to see this!" She handed him the paper.  
  
"For crying out loud, Grace! I thought you were dying. Next time don't scare me like." Gabriel lost his voice upon reading the headline article:  
  
Fourth body found in a series of murders known as the "Voodoo Murders"  
  
A body was found in a secluded area of the Bayou St. John early this morning by the N.O.P.D. The body was found covered with blood and chicken feathers. The victims heart was missing and was nowhere to be found. Markings on the ground and body indicate that voodoo rituals were performed on the victim.  
  
What is more shocking than this murder is the fact that this is the fourth victim in a series of murders which have been occurring for over two weeks. A police officer at the scene informed us that three other bodies were found in the exact same condition. The officer also informed us that all of the victims were out-of-town businessmen. The police were keeping the case out of the media in hopes of protecting the public safety. Why would hiding the murders protect the innocent people, unless the innocent will soon become victims?  
  
Shouting explicatives, Gabriel nearly tore the paper in two. He didn't think Mosely would inform the press, especially after that speech he'd given him. Gabriel bet that Mosely was trying to herd the reporters out of the station again.  
  
"Geez, Knight! I'm scared, too. But you saw the paper. The murders only involved out-of-town drug dealers. I don't think that you fit into any of those categories."  
  
"Yeah, well you'll be the first victim in the wave of victims of a man who lost the chance for a best-seller."  
  
Grace suddenly developed a serious face. "Don't tell me you're going to write a book about that?"  
  
Gabriel just realized that he'd never told Grace about his agreement with Mosely. Not wanting to let her know the truth, he replied, "Of course not, I need to talk to Mosely about something else. Do you think I'd even bother myself with that garbage?"  
  
"I rest my case."  
  
"Later, Grace!" He hated lying to her, especially after she helped him so much. He'd get over it.  
  
  
  
If it wasn't for the officers trying to push them out, Gabriel could have sworn he'd entered a reporter's convention. This time, though, regular citizens were mixed-in with the reporters, shouting their demands for more protection. He barely managed to squeeze his way through the reporters and angry citizens. He was glad that he didn't have to worry about claustrophobia, or else his chances for a best-seller would be about as good as his chances of committing to one woman. That's it, think positive!  
  
"Knight! Over here!" This time, Gabriel knew where to look. He jumped over the front desk officer's desk and headed for Mosely's office. "Be right with you, Knight!" Gabriel quickly squeezed through the door and gazed upon the huge stacks of paper which had formed on Mosely's desk. He could've sworn that the room had been cleaner on his last visit.  
  
Once again, Gabriel used Mosely's window to quick check his hair. He was able to finish before Mosely pushed his bulk through the office door. "I swear, I'm going to join in with these sickos who are doing all this killing just so I can take out those stupid reporters! Sit down Knight, I don't have time to wait for you to check out your hair."  
  
Gabriel sat down, hoping that the reporters hadn't made him too mad. "Well, Knight. I guess you've had time to read today's paper."  
  
"Yeah, I did. Now I know that you didn't reveal anything, and I don't care for the press myself." Gabriel once dated a reporter, and was the butt of many nasty editorials for two weeks after the initial break-up, "So what happened?"  
  
"Well, the body was discovered by a young couple thinking they'd get a buzz out of making-out in the swamp. They immediately called us, but then decided to get their faces in the papers, by being the first to 'help uncover a government conspiracy!' Stupid punks. Anyway, some female reporter got to one of the rookies. Promised him a 'big break into show biz,' and now we have to deal with angry, panic-stricken citizens who think that the police are a part of a 'big conspiracy!' I tell you, Knight, I don't see why I shouldn't just sit idly by until these sick puppies turn their voodoo on the public and make my job much easier!"  
  
"Don't worry, Mostly. Grace and I are willing to speak on your behalf to make sure that your insanity plea is genuine. Now if you're done reflecting on your fantasies, I'd like to catch up on the status of this case before the rest of New Orleans becomes involved in these killings."  
  
Mosely sighed, which indicated to Knight that the investigation wasn't going as well as he hoped. "Well, for starters, Knight, this fourth victim adds nothing new to the case. All it does is support our theory that the perps are targeting the Chicago Mafia. However, the captain has told me now that I have to reveal just enough to the press so that the paranoia will cease somewhat. Hell, with what I have to tell them, I wouldn't be surprised if they started their own voodoo to protect themselves from the voodoo being used in the murders."  
  
"So the voodoo is genuine?"  
  
"I wish I could tell you one way or another, Knight, but I have yet to find anyone who could verify either way. However, the captain has told me to tell the press that it is fake, that it's just a scare tactic."  
  
Gabriel felt like kicking something. Three weeks and Mosely has yet to find out if the voodoo was real or not. Guess he'll have to look it up himself sometime soon. "So, what all are you going to tell them?"  
  
"Well, I am going to tell them that there is no conspiracy, and that the victims were all out-of-town drug dealers, which proves that the murderers have no present intent to target the public. However, I won't tell them that this could be the start of a gang war, nor that the victims had connections to the Mafia. We don't want anymore people joining in. Don't worry, though, you'll still get more information than the press will get."  
  
"Speaking of which, anything new you can tell me? I'm starting to fall into a slump."  
  
Mosely leaned back into his thinking position, though why he even had one was beyond Gabriel's comprehension. "Well, how much do you have now?"  
  
Now Gabriel had to lean back into his thinking position. "Well, the latest storyline is the best one so far. I need to find out a little more about voodoo, though. If this stuff is genuine, then I plan on glorifying it as much as I can, but with realism."  
  
"I knew you couldn't resist taking the voodoo aspect too far, Knight. If I didn't know you for so long, I'd swear you're sick in the head. Of course, I'm still not sure about that, looking at what's on your head."  
  
"At least you have something to look at; all I see when I look at your 'hair' is me!"  
  
"Alright, Knight. You got me. So, need any help on my character?"  
  
Gabriel blanched when Mosely mentioned what he didn't want to talk to him about. "Well, I need to know a little more about you. It'll help the readers grasp the intelligence and strength you displayed while investigating these sick murders."  
  
Gabriel nearly choked on the bile which was quickly making its way up his throat. He doubted if he'd ever tell Mosely that he didn't want to use him in his book. Still, now is not the time to tell him. "Well, I think you're right. Someone with such experience and expertise such as myself should be explored more deeply."  
  
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, exactly what I was thinking."  
  
"Well, I guess you'll want to know a little about my past life; sort of add a little realism and spice to the role, you know?"  
  
Gabriel decided to play along; hell, this would be a good chance to dig up a little dirt he could use for his benefit. "Sure, I'd be honored to add as much realism as I can to such a 'complex and experienced' character. Find out as much as you can, and I'll meet with you when I'm ready to work on your part. I'm still in the prelims with the story; you know, establishing the plot and main setting, tedious stuff like that." Gabriel relished the smile forming on his friend's face. Maybe he should move to Hollywood and become an agent should this book not do as well as he hoped. At the rate things were going, maybe he should start packing.  
  
"Sure, Knight. Well, anything else before I address the public?"  
  
Gabriel stood up, stretched, and walked towards the door. "Yeah. Thanks for helping me out. You don't realize how much I appreciate it."  
  
"Wow, Knight! That's pretty deep for you."  
  
"You think so? I was planning on using it on the next woman I plan on 'socializing with'. I heard they eat that mushy stuff up."  
  
Mosely laughed. "Get outta here, ya wanker!"  
  
Gabriel headed back to St. George's.  
  
  
  
"So tell me, Knight. Any new plans for a book?" Grace's sarcasm greeted Gabriel as he hung his jacket next to the door.  
  
"Yeah, it's about a smart-mouth employee who thought she was better than her boss and ended up in the unemployment line."  
  
"So, you're saying she and her boss end up staying together, after all?" Gabriel headed for the coffee pot, realizing that he had yet to have his daily cup of caffeine rush. "Man, have you checked out the horoscopes, yet?"  
  
"What for, Grace? Don't tell me you believe in that, too?"  
  
"Well, it never hurts to have a little help; in your case, you need all the help you can get. Anyway, the Aquarius section is the strangest. 'While you may use your friends now, you will eventually need to change your ways, for they will aid you greatly in the near future.' Sounds like someone is in for a big adventure."  
  
Fat chance, Gabriel thought. She'd just read his sign, and from what he could tell, the only adventure he'll be embarking on is avoiding the dreaded repo man. Gabriel took a long swallow from his cup.  
  
"Gabriel, sweetheart! Long time no see!"  
  
Gabriel nearly burnt himself when he spilt his coffee. He didn't need to look up to see who had just entered. He'd known Bruno ever since high school, and he'd always hated him. Not because he was gay; hell, he was all for it (it left more women for him to date), but because Bruno was constantly putting him down about everything, whether it was his hair and taste in movies while in high school, or his lack of business and taste in women today. And he acted every bit the stereotype of television. He always wanted to punch him out, but Gran always told him to never hit women.  
  
"Bruno! What do you want? I thought you were still in Paris with your boyfriend!"  
  
"Gosh, Gabe, that trip was a month ago! No 'Hello. How was your trip? I missed you'?"  
  
Bruno's gaze suddenly met Grace, who was interrupted from her artwork. "Well, hello there, Miss. Finally, Gabriel, someone answered your pitiful cry for assistance. And a woman! Well, I guess you can finally stop looking for Ms. Right in seedy little bars."  
  
Gabe felt his face go red. Now was another chance for Grace to insult him. His redness disappeared, however, when he saw Grace stand up from her chair and stood right in front of Bruno's face. "Look, Bruno. Obviously, Gabriel has his flaws, but at least he's shown enough decency not to hit a woman, which is what I will do if you don't shut your trap! Now, if you want to buy something, then buy it and get out; otherwise, get the hell out!"  
  
Gabriel was stunned, but not as much as Bruno. Obviously, no one had ever talked to Bruno that way, and Gabriel had never heard Grace talk that way. Now he had to be careful what he said to her.  
  
Gaining back what little composure he had, Bruno turned to Gabriel, "So, hired the first thing that walked through the door, huh Gabe? As a matter of fact, Miss."  
  
"Nakimura, but you can call me Grace, because I'm sure you'd be able to pronounce it easier."  
  
"Well, I never!"  
  
Gabe smiled. "Get on with what you were babbling about, Bruno."  
  
"Well, I was wondering if you were planning to sell that painting of yours, since it will obviously get better attention in my store than this dump."  
  
Gabriel was about to retort, but Grace beat him to the punch, "Look, even if it were for sale, I wouldn't let Gabriel sell it to you. From the style of your clothes, you wouldn't know good taste if your boyfriend."  
  
"Okay, Grace. That's enough. I think our friend here gets the picture."  
  
He did, because Bruno was already heading for the door. "Well, I can tell when I'm not welcome!"  
  
The door slammed, and Gabriel felt like giving Grace a great big hug. "Gracie, have I ever told you I love you?"  
  
"Don't start, Knight. God, I hate people who act so stereotypically gay! How long have you known that. guy?"  
  
"Longer than I want to."  
  
"Sheesh, I thought Mosely was bad enough. By the way, what was it Bruno said about your dating habits?"  
  
"Now, Grace. If we are going to talk about my sex life, then we're going to have to talk about your lack of sex life."  
  
"Oohh, touchy, are we? Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me. Think of me as a confessional, since you probably never will visit one in your lifetime."  
  
"I don't know, Grace. I sort of picture you as a nun!"  
  
Grace shook her head, then looked at her watch. "Well, another day, another dollar, or in my case, another day without pay." Grace stood up, gathered her paints and purse, then headed for the door. "Sweet dreams, Knight." Let's hope so.  
  
Gabriel went to his room, where his typewriter stood waiting for his next bout with writer's block. Gabriel sat down, found where he left off, then began to type as much as he could. Which turned out to be not very much. Gabriel slapped the typewriter, as if it was to blame for his situation. Gabriel stood up, checked his fridge for any remaining sign of edible sustenance, and used them for a sandwich. Gabriel began to realize that he couldn't write much about voodoo because he didn't know much about voodoo. Sure, he knew of the local superstition which aroused tourists to New Orleans, but he didn't even know if that was real or not. Finishing his sandwich, he laid back on his bed. No reason to finish writing about something he didn't know about. If Mosely wasn't going to find if the voodoo was real or not, then Gabriel would have to find out for himself. Besides, it wasn't as if the store was taking up all of his time.  
  
Gabriel closed his eyes. Before he realized that he needed to sleep, he was asleep.  
  
  
  
June 1, 1993  
  
7:57a.m.  
  
His lungs were bursting from running so much. He was running away from something, but he didn't know what. He was afraid. It wasn't the same fear that he had as a child, and yet, it was familiar to him. Suddenly, huge flames sprung up in front of him. He quickly stopped. He tried to find some way around them; some way to escape whatever was chasing him, yet he couldn't. He turned around to face what was chasing him. Four bodies, with ropes hanging from their arms and painful expressions on their faces, walked towards him, hands outstretched not to capture him, but pleading with him, begging for help. He didn't know who they were, and yet, they were all too familiar. Suddenly, their backs arched, and a hand went through each of their chests, each time exposing their hearts to him, then pulling it back through the holes and out of their backs. He felt as if he was about to throw up. The corpses' eyes rolled back into their heads, then fell to the ground. Their hearts laid at their feet, still beating and showing no sign of stopping. A figure stood in the shadows. He strained his eyes to make it out. Suddenly, two flames sprouted behind and on either side of the figure. The figure was feminine and standing like a human, but her body was covered with animal fur, and her head was in the shape of a wild cat. Her eyes glowed, but not like a feline's eyes. These eyes were red, blood red. Her arm raised up, and her hand (her paw? He couldn't tell.) pointed at him. "No! Stay away! Get away from me!" Her mouth opened, and she began to speak, but despite the fact that her face was unrecognizable, her voice was all too familiar, "Gabriel? Gabriel! Gabriel!.  
  
Gabriel shot up straight in bed and looked around, feeling the sweat run down his forehead. He looked straight at his assistant, who had backed away as if expecting him to strike at her.  
  
"Grace? What are you doing here? What time is it?"  
  
Grace, realizing that Gabriel was over the initial shock of waking from his nightmare, stepped towards him, "It's eight o'clock. I just got here. I heard you screaming. Were you having a nightmare?"  
  
Gabriel rubbed his eyes, moaned, and then stood up. "Yeah, and it's one of the worst ones this week."  
  
"This week? You mean you've been having nightmares everyday?"  
  
"Yeah, and I don't feel like relating them to you."  
  
Grace went from greatly concerned to mildly perturbed. "You know, it's no wonder your only friends are a shameless detective and a gay flowershop owner; with that attitude, I'm surprised you've ever gone out with women."  
  
"Look, it's too early in the morning to start this. Let me take a shower and wake-up, and then we can continue this."  
  
"Fine with me."  
  
  
  
Gabriel was fully awake by his third cup of coffee. He scanned the newspaper, and made sure he ignored the headline about the murders; he trusted Mosely, and knew that anything in the paper was either old news or no news to him. Instead, he headed for his horoscope. He had the faintest feeling that he was falling into a routine, but he didn't bother to think too much about it.  
  
"Depend on your own skills today. The help of others won't accomplish much, today. Seek your own destiny."  
  
Yep, a routine he needed to break.  
  
"So, are you going to tell me what the nightmare was about?"  
  
Gabriel placed the paper on the table and leaned back on the table. "You find me that interesting?"  
  
"About as interesting as any college student who wanted to examine a sick mind for psychology."  
  
"Look, Grace. I really don't want to talk about them. I don't want them, and I definitely don't want to try and remember them."  
  
"Well, you should try to remember them. Many ancient philosophers recording their nightmares, and found that by analyzing them, they discovered that their visions reflected their present state and could predict things to come."  
  
Gabriel stared at her in awe. "You really don't have a life, do you?"  
  
Grace raised her arms as if asking for help from a higher power. "Look, can't you just work with me here? This 'job' you have me working doesn't offer too much excitement, you know!"  
  
Gabriel sighed, not really wanting to discuss it any further. Then again, she did defend him yesterday, so he owed her that much. He hated owing people something. "Well, I was being chased by something, and when I turned around, it had caught up with me. It looked like a woman, yet almost like a cat, a leopard, really. Then you woke me up. By the way, thanks for waking me. I didn't want to continue the dream any further."  
  
"Anytime, Gabe. About the dream, have you been having the same dream every night?"  
  
"No, it's different every night, but it sort of ends about the same, with the leopard woman."  
  
"Hmm, I really can't tell you what it means. How long have you been having them?"  
  
"These started about three weeks ago. I did have some worse ones when I was younger, but luckily, they've stopped."  
  
"Can you tell me what they were about?"  
  
There was no 'they', there was only the nightmare! He could remember it if he tried, but he didn't dare. "Sorry, can't really recall them."  
  
Grace sighed, not really believing him, and yet realizing that it would probably be for the better if he didn't. "Well, thanks for acting grown up once in your life."  
  
"Sure. Hey, I'm going to go get some doughnuts. I'm usually not up this early, and when I do wake-up early, I'm hungry. Care for any?"  
  
"Well, aren't you the courteous one. Just get me two plain cake doughnuts."  
  
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Before she could retort, Gabriel was out the door.  
  
Grace was talking on the phone when he got back, but the way she was talking, it wasn't a customer. "Yes, I've been working for him for about two months, and I must say he's.oh, wait. He just got back. I'll let you speak to him." Grace covered the receiver with her hand and looked up at Gabriel. "It's for you."  
  
"Tell 'em I'm busy."  
  
"Knight! Don't tell me you'd lie to your own grandmother?"  
  
Gabriel quickly ran to the desk and took the phone from her, handing her the package of doughnuts. "Gran, is that you?"  
  
"Hello, Gabriel, dear! How have you been? It's seemed like ages since I last talked to you."  
  
"Sorry, Gran. I've just been so busy, lately. I've been meaning to call you, but then I."  
  
"Oh, I didn't catch you while you were busy, did I?"  
  
"Oh no, Gran! I can always take time to talk to you. How've you been?"  
  
"Just fine, grandson, and don't you be worrying yourself over me."  
  
"You know I can't help it, Gran. You're my girl!"  
  
"Of course, dear. I remember saying the same thing to you. I just wanted to tell you that sometime when you're not to busy, I'd like for you to come over and go through some old things in the attic. I want to clean out some of the old junk up there, but I wanted to make sure I didn't throw away anything you might want."  
  
"Sure, Gran. But I'm afraid it may be awhile. I just got a new idea for a book, and I want to get as much down as I can before I lose it."  
  
"Sure, hon'. You don't have to hurry. It's been up there for the longest time, and it can stay up there a little while longer if need be."  
  
"Thanks, Gran. Well, I have to go, but if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me."  
  
"Sure, dear. Oh, and Gabriel."  
  
"Yes, Gran?"  
  
"I like Grace a lot. You chose a good assistant." Gabriel felt a heat rush all over his face. "Goodbye, dear."  
  
"Love ya, Gran." Gabriel hung up the phone and looked straight at Grace. "Alright, Grace, what d'ya tell her?"  
  
Grace put on a mock-innocence face. "Me? Say anything about her favorite grandson?"  
  
"Grace."  
  
"Don't worry, I didn't tell her about your women or your nightmares or any other of the numerous flaws you have. Like she'd believe a bad thing anyone said about you. She loves you more than you love yourself."  
  
"Yeah, well, she's only woman who's ever truly meant anything to me. I wish I wasn't so busy, today, or I'd go over and check on her."  
  
"You? Busy? What are you going to do?"  
  
"Well, after I'm done with the doughnuts and coffee, I'm going to head on down to the University and do a little research for my new book."  
  
"Oh, so you do have a new book. Why don't you tell me about it and let a professional do the research."  
  
"I only pay you to sell books."  
  
"Which isn't much, paying or selling."  
  
".and besides, something tells me I should do this on my own."  
  
"Have it your way, Lone Wolf. But you should learn to trust people."  
  
"Sure, I'll put that next to my how-to-make-a-million-dollars-doing-nothing idea. Besides, I think you should spend a little more time repairing books."  
  
"Whatever you say, master."  
  
"You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that."  
  
Grace just lowered her head and went to work on one of the books. Gabriel looked at the clock and realized it was just about noon. That was a longer line at the doughnut shop than he thought. Better get moving, no telling how long it would take him to find what he wanted. He quickly poured himself a cup of coffee, soaked up half the contents with one of his doughnuts, then swallowed the rest.  
  
"I'll have that last one when I get back ."  
  
"You sure you don't want me to try to sell it to someone?"  
  
Gabriel thought real quick, "Hell, yeah! Every sale counts. If Mosely comes by, make sure he sees it."  
  
Both Gabe and Grace laughed at that one.  
  
  
  
4:29p.m.  
  
Gabriel slammed the book shut, not caring if the librarian got onto him for making noise. Hell, for all he knew there was no librarian; he was the only one there. Good, because he would soon feel like cursing up a storm and he didn't want to offend anyone.  
  
Gabe looked at the pile of books he'd found with any remote sign of voodoo. Most were books about exotic religions, but a few were actually dedicated to voodoo. Of course, Gabriel wasn't sure how dedicated they were. He was down to two books he'd yet to examine thoroughly, and so far he'd learned nothing new. The religious books just listed voodoo as a slave religion most common to Haiti and New Orleans, but was mostly used now for tourist attractions and no true voodoo cults remained. Obviously, the authors have yet to see the "attractions" lying around the "heartless" victims which were helping him keep his job. The books which were dedicated to voodoo were less of a help. Most were just various listings of curses "guaranteed to work." The only book that provided anything new to Gabriel was designed for elementary schools. Terrible how somewhere in the city a six-year-old knew more about voodoo than he did. Maybe he could find the kid and interview him, offer him a co-authorship. Gabriel wrote down whatever he considered helpful, then look at the last remaining book. It was a compendium of the most famous faces in exotic religions. Gabriel turned to the index and looked up "voodoo." The only listing under it was "Marie Laveau." Gabriel turned to the indicated pages and scanned the article. So far this was the best information he'd found on voodoo; unfortunately, it really was just a biographical history of the woman. He would like to read it if he had the time, but having unemployment hanging over your head doesn't tend to help one relax. He did take down the book and page number for his future reference.  
  
He placed the last book on the top of the pile. He almost considered placing the books back on their proper shelves, then decided not to, let the librarians earn their keep. He placed his notebook in his jacket pocket (when's that recorder gonna get here?), and stood up to leave.  
  
Gabriel froze. Somewhere, deep in his mind, in a place he didn't know existed, he felt a presence. Someone was in the room. It wasn't the librarian, it was someone he didn't know, yet he did know. The person was watching him, from behind the bookshelf. He turned to the bookshelf, and saw the darkest, most beautiful eyes he'd seen. And yet, this wasn't the first time he'd seen them. He ran toward the shelf, staring directly at the eyes. He turned corner, just taking his eyes off of the dark eyes for a split second.  
  
...and found no one.  
  
Gabriel ran to where the person was standing, as if to find where the eyes had gone. He found nothing.  
  
"Been looking at those books too long. Guess it's time to go."  
  
Gabriel rubbed his eyes, just to be sure. Then he left. The library wasn't empty; a woman, with beautiful, copper skin and long ,dark hair, walked out from behind the bookshelf Gabriel had just searched. The woman walked over to a window, and saw Gabriel mounting his bike and driving off. Just before he had left from her view, the woman uttered a single word, "Ritter." Then she left.  
  
Gabriel arrived home just before closing time. The heavy rush-hour traffic was murder, even for someone with his driving expertise. Grace was gathering her things.  
  
"Well, glad I could make it on time for the kiss good-night."  
  
"Actually, Knight, you're out of luck. I haven't seen Bruno all day."  
  
Ooh! That hurt! Using a tone which mocked Bruno's own, Gabriel replied, "Well! I never!"  
  
Grace nearly dropped her things from laughing so hard. "Enough! Enough! I have a class, and I don't want to fall on the sidewalk and die laughing!" Gaining her composure, Grace asked, "Find what you needed for your book?"  
  
"No. I think I've even forgotten what little I knew about it before."  
  
"I wish you'd let me help you. Even though it's not like you're busy all day, you need someone who knows how to research to do it for you."  
  
"Grace, I appreciate your concern, but right now, I don't think you'd be able to find what I'm working for. Not even Mosely could find enough of what I'm looking for, and he's a detective."  
  
"Yeah, a regular Sherlock Holmes. Well, be that way. Still, I won't hold it against you if you need some help, so just ask if you need it, okay?"  
  
"You love me, don't you?" Grace didn't answer, just shut the door behind her.  
  
Gabriel smiled. He knew she wanted to do something besides fix books and paint all day. Still, he wasn't even sure he had something. And besides, he'd promised Mosely he wouldn't tell anyone he'd provided him with information, and in this case, he didn't want to break it. He didn't want to take a chance and ending up like those four victims. He had a chance for a best-seller, and he didn't want to blow it by going out and getting his heart ripped out.  
  
Gabriel locked up the store and headed for his room. He placed his notes on the table and scanned through them. They didn't offer him one bit of help. Maybe he was going about this all wrong, maybe he shouldn't lie to Mosely and actually write a true crime novel. Gabriel looked at his trash can, full of his rejected true crime ideas. Scratch that thought.  
  
Well, nothing to do but work with what he had.  
  
Tomorrow.  
  
He couldn't think of anything other than those eyes. Where had he seen those eyes, before? He knew it wasn't from one of his "girlfriends", he could barely remember their names and hair colors. It had to be more recent. And why did those eyes remind him of the red eyes from his dreams? They were red, no, blood red. He hoped he wouldn't have to sleep through that again. Why did something always have to go against him? Was he cursed? Better not think about that. Gabriel decided not to think about anything. He just hoped that when he fell asleep, he wouldn't dream, so he wouldn't have another nightmare.  
  
No such luck. 


	4. Calm Before the Storm

Author's Notes: All characters and references are copyright Sierra On- Line. Only the interpretation of events is my doing, and is all based on material from Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers.  
  
1 Calm Before the Storm  
  
June 16, 1993  
  
10:47a.m.  
  
Why was she here? Hell, when she was in college, she never knew that part of the job description for an orthodontist would be "aiding local police detectives in hunting down secret voodoo cults which murdered out-of-town drug dealers." It wasn't even proven that the cult was nay threat to the citizens of New Orleans, yet she felt somewhere inside her that this cult shouldn't be left alone. Even though the newspaper reported that the voodoo was fake, there was no way in hell she would start to believe that. That still didn't explain why she was in the swamp at the site of one of the murders, looking for any sign of a clue the police might have missed. It was starting to get dark, and she began to make her way back to her car.  
  
She stopped, feeling as though she was being watched. She looked behind her, and came face-to-face with  
  
"NO!" Gabriel put his hands in his face, hoping in desperation that he could keep his train of thought open to new ideas.  
  
Nope, it was gone.  
  
Gabriel stood up, walked over to the unmade bed, and fell face down on the mattress. "Why, oh why do these things happen at the wrong time?" He wasn't making the progress he'd hoped for. He had finally made it to the fourth chapter of his book, spending most of the past two weeks in seclusion, not wanting to lose each precious thought. Of course, most of what he'd written so far was just fiction, not really derived from the murders, but still, that's what a novel is, right?  
  
The murders have yet to cease. So far, two more bodies were found. The last one was found two days ago, but Gabriel hasn't been able to see Mosely yet; he was bogged down in paper work, and so was Gabe, for that matter. He needed to see him today; his own imagination had run short. Hopefully, his friend wouldn't ask too many questions concerning the book's plot; as much as he did it, he never liked to lie to people for such a long time. Still, he feared that he'd lose his "press pass special" should he reveal to Mosely the true nature of his book. As far as he'd come now, he couldn't afford losing the information providing the fuel for his imagination. And from the looks of his latest writer's block, he needed a complete refill.  
  
Might as well refill on caffeine while he was up, too. Gabriel headed out to the store and filled one of the cups with coffee. Grace kept her attention on the book she had taken down from the shelf. Gabriel picked up the paper, scanned the headlines, found nothing new or interesting, and search for the horoscope section. Not finding it in the usual place, he looked in another section, and another, until he discovered that it wasn't in today's paper.  
  
"Grace, where's the horoscope section?"  
  
Grace looked up from her book and stared at Gabriel with a sarcastic expression. "I thought you didn't believe in that, Knight?"  
  
"I don't, but I like looking at all of them and laughing at the stupid sayings and the people that believe in them. Now hand it over."  
  
Grace's expression went back to seriousness. "Grow up, Knight. I don't have it. There must not be one today."  
  
As much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to depend upon the horoscope. Maybe he should join Horoscopes Readers Anonymous before Grace found out the truth.  
  
Quit being so paranoid, Knight! Just because you've been having trouble sleeping because of those god-awful nightmares doesn't mean you should lose all of your senses. I mean, at least you haven't had the nightmare. Thank God for small favors.  
  
  
  
"Gabriel, can I ask you something?"  
  
"Yes, I am free tonight."  
  
"That's good to know, I'll think about that when I'm feeling depressed and need a good laugh." Nothing's going right for him today. "I found this book on the case by the door. It's some nice poetry, what little I could translate. Where'd you ever get a book full of German poetry?"  
  
Gabriel had to think back a long way for that one. In fact, it's been such a long time that he'd forgotten.  
  
No, wait. Now he remembers. "It was Gran's. She gave it to me when I opened this shop. She said she wanted me to sell it because the writer of most of the poems was never recognized much while he was alive, yet she liked his work so much. I could never see what she saw in it. Still, she's my Gran, and as much as she's done for me, I couldn't say no."  
  
"The writer, Heinz Ritter? Is that the one she was talking about?"  
  
"I guess. Don't know why she liked him. I pull it out occasionally. I do like one of them, one by Heinz Ritter, but it's only in German, and I'm not fluent in German. Still, I like the sound of it, so there's no sense to bother translating or learning to speak German."  
  
"Wow, someone like you having an interest in German poetry. Hard to believe your grandmother trusted you to sell the book, since you obviously didn't inherit her trust."  
  
"Look, if you're still mad at me for not letting you in on the book, get over it! You know as much as Gran, so should feel privileged. I usually don't reveal that much to people outside my family, of which she is the only other member. Now, just drop it!"  
  
Grace's face had a hurt expression on it, one he'd yet to see on her. "I'm sorry, Grace, but I've been living on my own for such a long time, and even as a child I've had to deal with things on my own. Now, I don't know what I would have done without you lately, but I need to do this on my own. If I do need your help, I'll ask for it, okay."  
  
Grace just looked at him, with a complying, almost defeated expression. "Fine, Gabriel. Be that way."  
  
"Thank you. Now, I'm going to see Mosely. I wish I could give you something better to do, but I can't. Just try to find something to do."  
  
Grace nodded. Gabriel wrapped himself in his jacket, then headed for his bike. As soon as she heard the motorcycle drive off, Grace stood up. "Sure, Knight. I'll find something to do." She moved the curtain out of the way and walked into Gabriel's room.  
  
  
  
A few reporters were gathered inside the station. No claustrophobic nightmare, today. Gabriel didn't see Mosely, so he walked over to the desk officer, a man who appeared to be Mosely's current future. Glancing quickly at the man's name tag, Gabriel said, "Good day, Officer Frick. My name is Gabriel Knight. I'm here to see Detective Mosely."  
  
"Good for you. Hold on." The man picked up his phone, pushed the button, and said, "Detective Mosely? A 'Gabriel Knight' to see you." The officer paused, gave a "okay", and hung up the phone. "He's in his office. Go on back."  
  
Gabriel walked back, made a quick glance in the mirror outside Mosely's office, then walked in. "Sorry, Knight. Your hair still looks like a lawn mower malfunction."  
  
Gabriel quickly remembered that Mosely's window was a mirror on the outside. "And I see why you keep the mirror side on the outside."  
  
"Sit down, Knight. I guess you're here to talk about Poor Dumb Stiff #6, right?"  
  
With a heavy English accent, Gabriel replied, "Blymie, Holmes! You've done it again!"  
  
With a worse English accent, Mosely continued, "Elementary, my dear Watson. The culprit has a one-track mind and a bad hairstyle."  
  
Reverting back to his normal, New Orleans-accented voice, Gabriel continued the conversation, "Now, how about telling me about the recent murder?"  
  
Returning to his normal, southern-chauvinistic voice, Mosely replied, "What's to tell? Same M.O., Chicago Mafia drug dealers invading on local territory. Same method, heart ripped out. Same locale, out-of-the-way but public enough to be discovered. Same items found at the site: blood, chicken feathers, and a pattern made in flour. However, there is one difference. The pattern isn't the same pattern. In fact, after I looked at the five previous patterns, they're all different. I'm going to have a sketch artist make copies of each pattern on paper for the files."  
  
"Are you saying that all six murders were done by six different cults or groups?"  
  
"I thought about that, but I don't think so. Everything else is the exact same thing. It seems highly unlikely that six different groups would keep everything the same except for that one piece of evidence. I'm thinking that the patterns are parts of a single symbol which was etched out, and maybe was distorted by people stepping on it. If we could recreate the full pattern, then maybe we have our perps."  
  
"Sort of an economical style of graffiti, right?"  
  
"I guess; however, I've never seen a symbol like this before, so we may have trouble recreating the full pattern or determining the group that goes by it. Still, it's a start. Better than just waiting for more fatalities."  
  
"Mind if I see the patterns when you get them?"  
  
"Don't see why not. Maybe a couple of days, though. I'll tell you when you can see them."  
  
Gabriel smiled, satisfied with at least some advancement. Mosely leaned back in his chair, a grin forming on his face. Gabriel became worried, knowing what he was about to say. "Need any help with the character background, Knight?"  
  
Great, just when his day was starting to look up. He thought quickly, trying to think of something to keep Mosely from discovering the truth. Unfortunately, his troubled mind could only form one idea, and what a bad idea. "Actually, yes. I was wondering what your mother's maiden name is?"  
  
Mosely's face went to an expression normally seen when he ate something which didn't quite agree with him. "My mother's maiden name? What for?"  
  
Gabriel had to think even quicker now, but once again, all he could manage was something which didn't sound convincing at all. "Well, since your parents are divorced, and you normally look to your mother for advice, I need to know her last name."  
  
Since when do I look to my mother for advice?"  
  
"Mosely, I'm writing about you, which means I need to make you look good in the public eye. Not many people read about men who have family troubles all around and don't want nothing to do with their families. However, men who look to their birth mothers for support during hard times are most appealing, especially to eligible bachelorettes." Why did he come up with such a stupid idea? He'll never fall for it.  
  
"I see your point, Knight. You should move to Hollywood and work as an agent if this book doesn't work like you want."  
  
He fell for it? Gabriel once again doubted the maximum capacity of his friend's intelligence.  
  
"It'll take a while, though. I don't know it off-hand, and Mom is on vacation. She'll be back Thursday night, so I'll tell you Friday. Anything else you need to know?"  
  
"Yeah, how is your family life right now?"  
  
Mosely's face took on an expression of extreme depression. "Why'd you have to bring that up? Hell, its over. My wife and I have already separated. Now she's trying to arrange an official divorce and work on the alimony charges. I tell you, Knight, I almost wish I would be Poor Dumb Stiff #7. Let the jerks who kill me handle the divorce. Let me guess why you asked. You want to portray my family like and show how even during personal crisis, I was able to put an end to the Voodoo Murders, right?"  
  
"Not bad, Mosely. Wish I'd thought of it. As a matter of fact."  
  
Gabriel reached into his pocket to get his notebook, but he couldn't find it. He checked all of his other pockets. He must have left it on his desk back at the store. "Terrific! I wish that stupid tape recorder would come soon. Gettin' tired of forgetting that notebook. Look, can I get back to you on that some other day?"  
  
"Sure, I don't feel like talking about it anyway. I think I'll go drink the problem away."  
  
Gabriel felt deja-vu from Mosely's words. "I wouldn't recommend it, pal. Best to just sleep on it. Besides, that could be what's making your wife leave."  
  
"That a fact? Maybe you're in the wrong line of work, Knight."  
  
Gabriel stood up and began to leave. "Look, Mosely, don't let this get to you. I really don't want to see you like you saw me." And I don't want to risk the chance of you getting fired and me losing information.  
  
Mosely smiled, obviously touched by Gabriel's unusual concern for someone other than himself. "Thanks, Knight. I'll try to get a hold of you tomorrow and update you on anything new."  
  
"Sure Mostly!" Gabriel left, and Mosely couldn't help sneaking a sip from his private flask in his desk drawer.  
  
  
  
Grace didn't meet Gabriel with the usual "welcome back" insult when he arrived back at the shop. Gabriel looked towards her desk, and found it unoccupied. It wasn't closing time. Where was she? "Grace? You here?"  
  
To his surprise, Grace emerged from behind his bedroom curtain, a solemn expression on her face. Gabriel himself had a serious expression on his face. He knew the answer to what he was about to ask, but he wanted to ask it anyway, "Grace, what were you doing back there?"  
  
"Knight, you know what I was doing back there."  
  
Gabriel's voice took on an annoyed tone, "Grace, why did you read my notes? I told you I could handle everything, and I don't need your help."  
  
"Knight, I didn't read your notes just because you wouldn't tell me anything. I'm concerned about your health."  
  
"My health? What the hell does my health have to do with your snooping through my notes where you don't belong?"  
  
Grace held up the newspaper with the headline about the sixth victim in the Voodoo Murders. "I was wondering why you suddenly began to develop nightmares, especially after you started on your new book. I read your notes by your desk, and figured you were writing about the murders. Reading today's paper and your current plot synopsis by the typewriter confirmed that."  
  
Gabriel's voice went from annoyed to angry, "Grace, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you're not my mother nor my grandmother. Therefore, my personal health and job is none of your business."  
  
Grace winced at Gabriel's words. This was worse than when he left and came back drunk. But Gabriel wasn't finished, "Ever since the day I hired you, you've been insulting me and mocking me. I eventually got used to it, since you did such a good job around the shop and never did get too personal. Now, though, you've gone too far. Why in the hell did you do this, Grace?"  
  
Grace was about to say something, but held it in. "Well?" Gabriel shouted so loud that Grace recoiled.  
  
Finally, she said, in an almost weak tone, "Because.because.I care about you, Gabriel."  
  
Gabriel's face went from anger to confusion. "You what?"  
  
"I care what happens to you, Gabriel. I thought you were such a jerk the first time I met you, but after Mosely brought you in and explained what was happening, I felt guilty for judging you so quickly. I wanted to make it up to you by helping you with your next book."  
  
Gabriel began to feel guilty for rejecting Grace. He thought that she was acting like such a stuck-up witch, but now it was only because he was acting like such a jerk. He never felt this way towards any woman before. He actually cared for her too. "I'm sorry, Grace, I didn't know. I.I didn't want to get you involved because Mosely made me promise not to spread the information about the murders. Of course, that was before the papers found out about it."  
  
"So that's why you were so mad over the paper the other day."  
  
"Uh-huh. You wouldn't believe the picture Mosely showed me, Grace. The man didn't die until one minute after the heart was ripped out! I kept having nightmares that I would end up like that should the cult be discovered, or maybe even you."  
  
"Why are you writing about such a horrid subject? Surely you can think up something better than this?"  
  
"That's the problem, I can't. I've been having problems with the current plot as is. I can't turn back now. A whole month's work would be for nothing." Grace seemed to understand. "Besides, the public loves reading about voodoo, and I figured that this book could be the best-seller I need to keep from losing my publishing contract."  
  
Grace nodded, fully understanding Gabriel's intentions. "I still think you should drop the book, since the murders seem to be the cause of your nightmares. Still, what can you do?" Gabriel nodded.  
  
They stared at each other from across the desk for a few minutes, neither saying a word. Finally, Gabriel said, "Look, why don't you take the rest of the day off. I need to close up early and see if I can do anything with what I've got."  
  
"Sure, Gabriel. And I'm sorry about reading your notes."  
  
"Don't worry. I should have trusted you more that I did." Yeah, and if he had that stupid tape recorder, he wouldn't stupidly leave his notes out in the open anymore. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Grace gathered her things and walked towards the door. "Try to have pleasant dreams tonight, Gabriel."  
  
"Thanks, Gracie." The door closed.  
  
  
  
Gabriel stared at the typewriter, wondering what to do next. He knew he wouldn't be able to think of anything else to write about, so he just stood up and lied down on the bed. All his thoughts went back to the confrontation with Grace. Why didn't he trust her? She was obviously very capable of defending herself (anyone studying Tai Chi should). Maybe, Gabriel felt an attraction to her, not like the women he'd slept with before. It was as if they would be partners, as if their future depended on one another for survival.  
  
Wait a minute! Survival? What the hell are you thinking, Knight? You're a writer, she's your assistant! What do you need survival from? Gabriel didn't know what made him think of such a thing, but somewhere, deep within his soul, a drastic change was about to come, and it would change their lives forever.  
  
That's it, Knight! You need to sleep. You're starting to confuse fantasy with reality. It's time for you to go to sleep! As if obeying his consciousness, Gabriel's eyes shut, and his mind prepared for the inevitable nightmare.  
  
  
  
June 17, 1993  
  
9:32a.m.  
  
Gabriel's eyes adjusted to the light which shone into the room. It couldn't be time to wake-up; he hadn't had the nightmare yet. He looked at the clock beside his bed. It was early, but there was no chance he was going to fall back to sleep. Not only was his body fully awake, he didn't want to risk the chance of having a nightmare. This was the first time since starting on the book that he didn't wake-up in a cold sweat. Seeing this as a sign of good things to come, Gabriel stood up, stretched, and headed for the bathroom. He examined himself in the mirror. Not bad. Still, there was no situation which couldn't be made better after a nice warm shower.  
  
After showering and shaving, Gabriel headed out to the store. Grace was reading the morning paper. Gabriel glanced at the headline on the front page and noticed no sign of any story related to the Voodoo Murders. Despite the macabre fact that he needed people to die in order to help continue his book, he was glad that there wasn't anything like that today. After starting out so good today, he really didn't want to talk with Mosely about PDS#7 (as he so eloquently put it yesterday).  
  
He headed for the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. The black liquid woke up any remaining part of Gabriel which still lingered between sleep and consciousness. "Now that's good coffee."  
  
Grace lowered the paper and stared at Gabriel. "What did you expect? Isn't that what you hired me for?"  
  
Good old Grace, back to her normal, annoying self. How he loved her for that. "Well, I don't pay you for sitting down all day reading the paper and admiring my physique."  
  
Grace smiled, glad to see Gabriel was back to his normal, chauvinistic self. "You got some calls while you were asleep."  
  
"So early?" Who were they?"  
  
"Put it this way: all of them were women, and when I asked them to describe you for my reference, they had you on four legs and rolling around in your own filth."  
  
"Toss 'em!" He didn't want to ruin a good day by talking with women he didn't remember. "Anything good in the paper?"  
  
"Not if your definition of 'good' involves drug dealers being ritualistically murdered. The murderers seem to have taken a vacation."  
  
"Can't have that now, can we?"  
  
Grace shook her head, more in disgust than in agreement. "Here's something.They hired a new writer for the horoscopes. Seems the old one was fired because his predictions were too far-fetched to be true."  
  
Gabriel laughed, "Well that explains a lot." Maybe this meant that all of the previous horoscopes were fake too. Good, cause he still wasn't sure if they were true. "Mind if I read today's prediction?"  
  
Grace handed him a section of the paper. "Sure. Guess you want to laugh at them, huh?" Gabriel ignored her and turned to the section. He read the Aquarius prediction.  
  
"Enjoy today, for it is the calm before the storm. Your life will soon change, and only you will be able to change things for the better."  
  
If the prediction hadn't been his, he would have laughed so hard until his sides hurt. Throwing the paper to Grace in disgust, he walked towards the door, folding his jacket around him. "Don't you think you should leave the jacket here? The days are getting hotter, and that jacket is black leather, which is supposed to keep you warm."  
  
After what he paid for it, he should be sleeping in it. "Thanks for the advice, Grace. Did you consult the dead to come up with that piece of info?"  
  
"Fine, burn up in it for all I care. Then you'll be roast ham!"  
  
Touché, Gabriel thought. "I'll be back in a little while." Gabriel rode off on his bike, and Grace returned to the paper.  
  
  
  
1:24p.m.  
  
Gabriel had walked around Jackson Square for the past three hours. He normally came to Jackson Square when he wanted to relax. Sometimes he found inspiration from just spending a day walking around. Two of his books came about that way. Today, however, he just couldn't find inspiration. The bands played same songs over and over again. The only good thing so far was the fact that the stupid mime wasn't here today. Last time Gabriel was here he nearly punched him out.  
  
Gabriel noticed an artist in front of St. John's Cathedral. The man was good; he seemed to be halfway through a technical drawing of the cathedral. It'd look good in one of those art books.  
  
Suddenly, Gabriel realized what his book needed: pictures! A picture of one of the victims would add a great effect to his book! Maybe he could coax Mosely into letting him use one of those pictures.  
  
Gabriel walked towards his bike and pointed it in the direction of the police station. Suddenly, he realized he didn't feel like driving all the way to the police station. He'd probably wouldn't be able to get the photo today anyway. He decided to just call him from the store; maybe this way Mosely wouldn't ask him about the book. He always lied better when he wasn't face-to-face with the person he was lying to.  
  
Gabriel pointed his bike in the direction of the store, and drove off. What he didn't realize was that the drummer had been watching him the whole time. After Gabriel had left, he began to beat out a new beat, one which meant nothing to most people, except to those who could interpret its true meaning.  
  
  
  
Grace had started on her paintings when Gabriel arrived. "Honey, I'm home!"  
  
"Good, for you. Don't expect me to kiss you hello." The thought had crossed his mind.  
  
Instead of keeping up the little insult chatter, Gabriel headed for his room. Gabriel picked up his phone and dialed the police station. He talked to the desk officer and waited while being transferred.  
  
"Detective Mosely."  
  
"I know you are or I wouldn't have called you."  
  
"Knight! What do you want?"  
  
"Just seeing how things were going."  
  
"If you were calling in hopes of a seventh victim, then you're out of luck."  
  
Gabriel suspected as much; still, that wasn't what he called about. "I figured that out, Mostly. I wanted to ask you for something for the book."  
  
"Sure, whatcha need?"  
  
"You know the photo of the victims? You think you could get me a copy of one?"  
  
"I don't know, Knight. You weren't even supposed to see it. I don't think I should be handing out copies."  
  
"Mosely, I need it to add a bit of realism to the book. I think if people saw this in the book, they'd realize just how serious these murders were, and they'd like your character more for such bravery."  
  
"Well, I'll see what I can do. Anything else?"  
  
Gabriel was glad he didn't ask about his character, but something in Gabriel's mind told him he should ask for something about Mosely, just to keep Mosely thinking that the book was about him. "Yeah, Mostly. Do you think you could also provide me a photo of yourself? I maybe able to do something with that, too."  
  
Gabriel swore he could here Mosely doing back-flips and cheering. "Sure, Knight. I should be able to get both of them for you tomorrow. I'll call you to tell you when."  
  
"Thanks, pal. Oh, one more thing. I ordered a tape recorder which should be in sometime soon. Do you think I could talk to you about everything we've gone over so far so I could have it on tape."  
  
"Sure, no problem."  
  
"Thanks." Gabriel hung up, feeling like kicking himself for asking for a photo of Mosely. He knew he'd never use it. Still, it would probably keep Mosely off his back about the book.  
  
Gabriel looked at the typewriter. He tried to continue with what he had so far, but it just wasn't working. He needed to find out if the voodoo was authentic. Somewhere in his mind he knew it was, but he needed an expert to tell him that it was. Besides, he felt like he owed Mosely for all the help he was giving him. Might as well help him prove that the voodoo is real. But how can he find someone who could confirm it? He had no luck with the books and he really didn't have time to drive around New Orleans looking for proof.  
  
Then he realized what he had to do. He didn't want to, but he realized it was the only thing he could do. He walked out to the store.  
  
"Grace? Are you busy?"  
  
"Not really, why?"  
  
Gabriel felt a knot in his throat. He could barely form the words, "I.need you to."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I need you to do some research for me." He almost strung the whole sentence in one word. He was glad to get it out.  
  
Grace looked at him with an expression of zeal and disbelief. "Are you serious, Knight?"  
  
Gabriel couldn't stare her in the face. "Yes, I need you to find some place which deals in voodoo. I need help to find out all I can about voodoo."  
  
Grace's face took on the concerned face Gabriel was getting used to. "Are you sure, Knight? I don't think you should get so deeply involved in this."  
  
"Grace, I need to know if this voodoo is real or not. Do you want to help me or not?"  
  
Grace sighed, realizing that this was the one chance she had to prove how good of a researcher she was. "Okay, Knight. I'll try the best I can."  
  
"You can take the rest of the day off, Grace. I'll look around the shop to see if there's anything I can find here which might help me."  
  
Grace gathered her things and headed for the door. "I really wish you'd reconsider, Gabriel. I have a feeling about this book."  
  
"Yeah, I do too. I feel that if I don't write about it, then we'll both be together in the unemployment line. Thanks for helping me, though."  
  
Grace smiled. "Anytime." Grace shut the door, and Gabriel started to look through the books on the shelves.  
  
  
  
9:56p.m.  
  
The man took off his jacket. He never realized that the summer nights of New Orleans would be so hot. They seemed hotter than the days. He wished he was back up north. He wish he wasn't here waiting for the drug deal to go down. Ever since he came here two months ago, he felt nervous, as if he was constantly being watched by someone. He would rather push drugs on his home turf of Chicago than to try and make a deal with the local scum. He'd received a call from someone claiming to be a part of the local drug dealers who wanted to join up with the Chicago men. This was good, since six of his men had disappeared. He needed as much local support he could get if he was to try to invade into New Orleans. Many of the major providers were already pulling out, scared of the disappearances.  
  
Man, he wished whoever was going to come would come. He heard that the shores of Lake Pontchartrain were home to snakes. Why'd he agree to meet here anyway? He was sure there were other places which were away from the public.  
  
A rustle behind him alerted him to another presence. He spun around fast and came face-to-face with the tallest, darkest man he'd ever seen.  
  
The dark man spoke in a deep, deep voice, almost like the voice of that one man in that science fiction TV series. "Are you here from the Chicago Mafia?"  
  
"Y-yes."  
  
"Good." The dark man reared his head back, then spit a powder into the other man's face. The man started to choke, then fell to the ground unconscious. The dark man took his shirt off, displaying across his broad back a tattoo of bird wings.  
  
  
  
10:15p.m.  
  
Gabriel was halfway through the first three bookcases when the phone rang. Good, he wasn't having much luck finding a book he needed.  
  
He walked over to the desk and answered the phone. "St. George's Books."  
  
"Gabriel, it's Grace."  
  
"Hey, Grace. You all right?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"I know that."  
  
"Knock it off, Knight. I'm at home. I just wanted to call and tell you that you can stop looking through your books. I found two places which should help you out nicely with your research."  
  
"Great!"  
  
"I'll give you the addresses tomorrow when I arrive at work."  
  
"Thanks Grace. I'm sorry I doubted you before."  
  
"No problem, Knight. Pleasant dreams."  
  
Gabriel hung up the phone. This was great! He locked up the shop and headed for his room.  
  
Gabriel laid between the covers of the bed and went over his good fortune in his mind. First, his nightmares had finally appeared to subsided. He was able to coax Mosely into giving him a photo of the murder for his book. And Grace had found not just one voodoo place, but two! He knew that he'd finally be able to work out a best-seller from the information he would be getting. This was the start of a new beginning for him. Gabriel closed his eyes. He needed to be well rested for tomorrow. It was going to be a busy day.  
  
Things were finally looking up for Gabriel Knight.  
  
And then, the nightmare began.  
  
The End.  
  
To be concluded in Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers by Jane Jensen.  
  
A Final Word of Thanks: First, I'd like to thank my family and friends who encouraged me in writing this and helped me to edit it. I would also like to thank Raymond Chitolie, the site creator of The Domain of the Schattenjägers, an excellent Gabriel Knight Resource Page, who first hosted this fanfiction back in 1997, where it won the awards. I'd like to thank Jane Jensen for creating a thought-provoking game and encouraging me to continue writing. Finally, and definitely not least, I'd like to thank God for the many blessings He's given me, which I would never be able to count no matter how long I lived. 


End file.
